


Slow Beginnings

by awarrington



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Christmas, First Time, Holidays, M/M, Mission Fic, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:39:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the defeat of the Narada and Spock's decision to stay with the Enterprise, he and Kirk have to learn to work together.  Over the course of their five year mission, their friendship evolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授权翻译]Slow Beginnings/漫长的启航](https://archiveofourown.org/works/893643) by [kiy900](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiy900/pseuds/kiy900)



> Written for the 2009 Livejournal K/S Advent Calendar.

Prologue – Stardate 2258.10

  
Too late, the information contained in the document had been burned into Spock’s memory, even before he’d had time to acknowledge that he’d read it in error.  
  
The PADD the captain had given him earlier was supposed to contain only work-related files – reports, budget summaries, requisition requests and the like, but evidently, he’d also used that particular device to access private documents and had somehow failed to close one of them down. That his own name was mentioned at the top of that document perhaps compounded the issue, because he knew he’d be unable to expunge what it he had inadvertently read from his long-term memory.  
  
The document in question was a list – a list Kirk had evidently put together at some point in the recent past, of activities he wished to achieve by the date of his thirtieth birthday. Top of that list was _Make love to Spock._

Spock wanted to forget because it was a breach of privacy – even though unintended – but he was simply unable to let it go. For the most part, he found himself curious about the list. However, the point that was relevant to him, where his own name had been mentioned, had been accorded the number one position (although he acknowledged there was no specific evidence to suggest they were necessarily ranked, nor ordered in any other particular fashion).  
  
Had Spock been human, the existence of his entry on the list – specifically a number of assumptions implicit in Kirk’s goal – would have likely angered him. However, Spock was Vulcan and therefore not angry; not even peeved. That was not to say he didn’t consider Kirk to be both arrogant and naive, as well as optimistically unrealistic. Given they were only two weeks into their five year mission, Spock could only hope that his captain would, to use a rather apt English phrase, grow up.  
  
While he might not be able to forget what he’d read, he could certainly choose not think about it, and with the self-discipline all Vulcans are taught at an early age, he turned his attention to his work, going through checking, actioning and signing off the remaining documents.  
  
-=-=-  



	2. Chapter 2

Stardate 2259.1

Three months into their mission, the captain negotiated with Admiral Pike to allow them three days of shoreleave on Wrigley’s which, much to the bridge team’s excitement, happened to coincide with Ensign Chekov’s eighteenth birthday. Spock did not count himself among those who were excited, as such an emotion was foreign to him.

“Oh come on, Spock, surely you can see how important this is for Pavel,” Uhura pressed when she and Spock were alone in his quarters. Uhura was not reacting well to his stated preference to remain on board during the up-coming shoreleave.

“As you are no doubt aware, Nyota, there is no formal age of majority for Vulcans, as each is judged by their actions, not by their age. The only rite of passage a Vulcan may choose to undertake, occurs at age seven, the success of which leads to a bonding agreement. While I am aware of Ensign Chekov’s alteration in Terran legal status to adulthood, my limited exposure to this ritual while at the Academy does not incline me towards participation.”

Uhura cocked her head to one side. “Spock, there isn’t a particular ritual for eighteenth birthdays. People celebrate it differently, but it’s usually with their closest friends and family. Out here,” she waved her arm around, Spock thought, to vaguely indicate their current location, “ _we’re_ Pavel’s friends and family. He needs to feel he belongs – we all do.”

Uhura was, Spock was reasonably certain, unaware of his own sense of isolation and detachment from the remainder of the bridge crew. This was despite their own intimate relationship, and her regular encouragement to have him participate in group commemorations such as the successful completion of their first month in space (which the captain informally hosted in his quarters), and the celebration of Chekov’s natal milestone.

“I cannot believe Ensign Chekov would regard me as a friend, given I have spent,” he paused a moment to calculate, “eight point three hours of off-duty with him, all of which were at similar gatherings.”

Uhura shook her head and picking up his hand, began to run her thumb over his knuckles. “Surely you must see how much he looks up to you, and looks to you for approval. Haven’t you noticed how his face lights up whenever he does one of those amazing calculations in his head and you confirm he’s got it right?”

Spock tried to ignore the sensations Uhura’s touch were producing, to focus on her question. He recalled eighteen such occasions and, now that Uhura had brought it to his attention, he remembered how Chekov had looked slightly apprehensive as he’d swiveled in his seat toward the Science Station awaiting a response from him, smiling broadly when he had verified the young navigator’s accuracy. While it was not how he might define the concept of friendship, he accepted Uhura’s assertion.

“Very well, I will attend.”

The capitulation earned him a hug as a precursor to greater intimacy.

+

In his earliest days at the Academy, Spock had been persuaded by classmates to visit a number of night-clubs around San Francisco. With his aural sensitivity, the din from a combination of the music playing loudly and everyone having to shout over it to be heard, had been so uncomfortable that he had ceased joining in and, until now, nothing had persuaded him otherwise.

Other than the higher proportion of non-Humans, the Sexy Cat Club on the main strip of Wrigley’s Pleasure Park was little different in atmosphere to those Spock had visited on Earth. A large, rectangular dance-floor, illuminated from beneath by a constantly changing pattern of colors, was flanked by a bar along one side and tables and booths along two of the remaining sides. Most of the bridge and other members of the senior team were dancing somewhere on it among the crush of bodies gyrating to the music, while he sat with Kirk and Chekov in a large booth. Despite several attempts to persuade him, Uhura had failed to entice him to join her on the dancefloor.

They had gathered for dinner in a nearby restaurant earlier on in the evening, which had been pleasant enough. There, they had toasted Chekov, congratulating him for having attained his eighteenth year, and Sulu had then caused him to blush when he had insisted the young navigator commemorate reaching adulthood by ‘wetting his whistle’ (a phrase Uhura had quietly explained to him).

Two point six hours after that comment, Spock was doubtful Chekov would be able to stand unaided, never mind fulfill such an act, as he watched his captain and the navigator participate in a drinking game (the object of which, Kirk had explained to him earlier, was for one of them to drink the other under the table, and Spock had spent enough time with inebriated Humans to fathom that particular idiom without assistance).

“It’s a pity alcohol doesn’t affect you, Spock. You’re missing out on the fun,” Kirk said with a grin, his speech somewhat slurred to his ears.

“I can assure you, far from missing out on what you call ‘fun’, Captain, I find it highly illogical that you should imbibe alcohol with the sole purpose of rendering yourself unconscious.”

“I know you don’t get it. I guess you have to be an illogical Human.” Kirk’s smile, directed at him, carried a warmth Spock seldom saw. This was his captain with his guard down, off-duty and relaxed, ably assisted by a copious quantity of vodka. There were fifteen empty shot glasses lined up in front of each of them, which Spock estimated was the equivalent of zero point seven of a liter.

“As you say,” Spock agreed. Beside him, Chekov swayed, bumping shoulders with him.

“Ready for the next one, Pavel?”

“I am always ready, Jim,” Chekov answered, holding up a full glass. “When I was a baby, my mother gave me vodka instead of milk.”

Kirk grinned and lifted his own glass. “Za zdorovi'eh!” he shouted, as he had done every round, and after drinking the contents in one swallow, banged his empty glass on the table.  
  
“Za zdorovi'eh!” Chekov echoed, his voice not as strong as it had been earlier. He swayed again, almost slumping, and Spock was forced to push him upright and then hold him there.  
  
Spock was uncertain why they were drinking to health when their actions appeared to counter the sentiment. “I believe Ensign Chekov has had enough, Captain.”

“No way!” Kirk protested. “No-one quits until only one of us is still standing…or sitting, at any rate.”  
  
“I believe the only reason Chekov is ‘sitting’ as you say, is because I am holding him.” Spock quickly glanced at the dance floor wondering where McCoy was. Surely he would not allow this irresponsible behavior to continue.  
  
“I tink… I tink…” Chekov mumbled, and then collapsed against Spock.  
  
“Yes!” Kirk shouted, standing up and punching the air. A moment later, he sat back down heavily with a grin. “Woah, the whole fucking club just tilted.”  
  
Sparing his captain only a cursory glance, Spock stood and carefully lay Chekov down on the bench seat. “I will search for Dr. McCoy.”  
  
Five minutes later, four were ready to beam up. Spock had assured Nyota that she needn’t accompany him, insisting she continue to enjoy herself at the club. The fact that she had taken little persuading indicated it was her wish also.  
  
Chekov’s slight frame meant it was little effort for Spock to carry him along the deserted Enterprise corridors to sickbay. If McCoy had any opinion about the drinking game, he kept it to himself, as he prepared a biobed for the unconscious crewman. Kirk, who was only just able to walk himself, hung back, leaning heavily against a bulkhead.  
  
“Just put him down here,” the doctor said, pointing at the bed, “and on his side in case he vomits.”  
  
Spock was thankful that hadn’t occurred on their journey back to the ship.  
  
“Is he going to be okay, Bones?” Kirk asked, his voice slurred.  
  
“No thanks to you,” McCoy scowled and punched a hypospray against the unconscious man’s neck. “He’s not quite hit the level of alcoholic poisoning.” He waved a tricorder at Kirk and shook his head. “Come here, you need one of these too.”  
  
“I wanna go back down—” Kirk began to protest.  
  
“Over your dead body. Your blood alcohol concentration is zero point two nine percent and you usually lose consciousness around the zero point three mark. You’re not going anywhere.”  
  
Kirk huffed and then walked unsteadily towards the doctor, a slightly apprehensive expression on his face. Having never seen that look on his captain before, not even immediately before beaming to the Narada, Spock watched in fascination. The jab, when it came, seemed unnecessarily rough.  
  
“Ow! Fuck, Bones!” Kirk shouted, slapping his hand over his neck where the hypospray had made contact. “You did that deliberately, you bastard.”  
  
“Asshole. Now go sleep it off,” the doctor ordered. “And you,” he added, jabbing his finger at Spock, “make sure he goes to his quarters and doesn’t beam back down again.” With those words, he turned back to Chekov.  
  
Out in the corridor as they headed for the turbolift, the scowl on Kirk’s face was an indication to Spock that the doctor’s fear was likely a valid one.  
  
“I don’t need you to babysit me, Spock.”  
  
Spock understood Kirk’s annoyance was aimed at the doctor, not at himself. “Indeed. Nevertheless, the doctor requested that I escort you to your quarters, so I shall do so.”  
  
The door to the lift slid silently shut and Kirk punched a button on the control panel. “You picked a great time to actually agree with Bones.”  
  
“As your first officer, it is my duty to ensure your safety and well-being.”  
  
Kirk snorted at the words, stepping out unsteadily the moment the door opened. “So you’re here out of duty.”  
  
Spock hesitated, recognizing the bald statement as one that had a layer of meaning behind it. The subtlety of Human behaviors and interactions frequently passed him by.  
  
“I mean,” Kirk said, noticing his hesitation and guessing correctly he had failed to comprehend the nuance of the comment, “you’re not doing this as a friend.”  
  
Spock spent a moment, considering the words. Based on what Nyota had said about Chekov, Kirk would likely regard Spock as a friend, and they had, indeed, spent many more off-duty hours together than he had with the navigator.  
  
“I am also here for you as a friend,” he confirmed as they stood outside Kirk’s quarters. He had almost automatically ended the sentence with ‘captain’, which would have negated his words, stopping himself at the very last. While his commander had frequently asked him to call him Jim while off-duty, he had never felt comfortable with such informality.  
  
The captain nodded once and punching in his door code, strode in. “In that case, you can come in.”  
  
He walked straight to the replicator and dialed up a large cup of water, which he drank back in one go. “Neat vodka doesn’t give you too much of a hangover, it’s the dehydration which kills,” he explained as he threw the cup into the recycler.  
  
“I do not comprehend why you baited Chekov into the drinking contest. He is now unable to participate in the celebrations in his honor.”  
  
Kirk sat down on his bed and ran his hand through his hair. “He’s got to learn his limitations, Spock. I have more body-mass than he does, so I can take more alcohol…even if he was weaned on the stuff,” he added with a smile.  
  
“You did it to teach him a lesson?” Spock’s incredulity was clear in his voice.  
  
“Look, everyone…well – most Humans – drink themselves insensible at least once in their lives, usually when they’re still a teenager. It’s how we all learn our limits.”  
  
While Spock would not condone the method, he understood the lesson.  
  
“Besides,” Kirk added with a grin, “I’ve wanted to out-drink Chekov with vodka since the day we left Earth!”  
  
Suddenly, the list of Kirk’s that Spock had accidentally read shortly after the start of their mission, sprung to mind. Number three: ‘out-drink Chekov with vodka,’ his captain’s exact words.  
  
“If I might speak freely?” Spock asked.  
  
“Sure, go ahead.”  
  
“As captain of this vessel – the flagship of the fleet – you are expected to set an example to your crew. Consider your motivation for your behavior this evening and the example you set those who work closest to you. If you wish to be taken seriously, both by your crew and StarFleet, I suggest you reflect on how you might best achieve that. You may wish to consider applying for a StarFleet Leadership course which I believe will better equip you for your role.”  
  
“Right. Thanks for the feedback.”  
  
Spock was uncertain whether Kirk was being sarcastic or was genuinely taking his words in. He had at least made an attempt to get through to Kirk. He could do little more.  
  
“If you will excuse me,” Spock said quietly, “I have discharged my duty. Good night.” If Kirk responded, he didn’t hear it, as a moment later he was out in the corridor and walking the few steps to his own adjacent quarters.  
  
Once in his cabin, Spock reviewed the evening. He had failed to understand many of the social interactions and comments that had provoked laughter. Uhura had twice quietly attempted to explain what had amused them, but Spock had shut her down, since the fact that she had felt the need to explain had had the effect of giving him a greater sense of isolation, of being an outsider. It was not a situation he was unused to, having grown up a ‘half-breed’ among Vulcans, and then at the Academy, he had stood out as the only Vulcan. Yet a part of him yearned to be accepted for who he was, as Spock. Nyota had come the closest to this, though she still appeared to have unconscious expectations of him that he was unable to fulfill.  
  
McCoy’s behavior, more than anyone else’s had puzzled him. The doctor had appeared angry at Jim for encouraging Chekov to drink himself into a stupor, yet he had made no attempt during the evening to stop the ‘game’. It was as though he accepted it, even though he didn’t approve of it.  
  
As for Kirk, he had clearly made an effort over the three months of their mission so far to be friendly with him, but his leadership skills left a lot to be desired. What was standing in the way of Spock’s willingness to trust Kirk more was his sometimes immature behavior, and Spock recognized another hurdle was his judgment of Kirk for it. It would, he acknowledged, take a change from both of them, if they were to forge the kind of friendship his counterpart and captain had once shared – the one that was to define them both.  
  
-=-=-  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Stardate 2259.2

“On the grounds of safety, I cannot allow it, Captain.” Spock was aware of Scott physically stepping back from the fray.

“Safety? What do you think will happen to me out there?” Kirk asked, waving his arm towards a bulkhead to indicate the exterior of the ship.

“Regulations state that extra-vehicular activity should take place—”

Kirk looked annoyed. “Don’t quote the regulations at me, Spock. I know them—”

“Then why,” Spock interrupted uncharacteristically, “do you persist in this endeavor?”

Kirk put his hands on his hips and leaned in to close the gap between them. “Because I _want_ to.”

There was no answer to that – the captain was being his usual illogical self, and this was an unnecessary risk. He knew where this desire arose from – carrying out an EVA was one of the stated activities on the captain’s wish list. Spock turned to Scott for support and got a shrug in response. He shouldn’t have been surprised as the engineer was not one to strictly follow rules himself.

Spock tried one more time. “A captain is irreplaceable. Logic dictates that the task should be undertaken by an engineer—” He didn’t bother continuing, recognizing the stubborn look on Kirk’s face. A change of tactic was required. “If you persist in taking this unnecessary risk, then I insist you must be accompanied. I can select a security detail, or I go with you, the choice is yours.”

Kirk’s eyes widened and then he scowled in a manner reminiscent of the doctor’s perpetual expression. “I don’t need anyone to nursemaid me, Commander!”

 _Commander._ Spock had noticed Kirk used the term outside of formal occasions, as a means of reminding him of their disparity in rank. Not in the least intimidated, he ignored it and turned to the chief engineer. “Mr. Scott, we will require two environmental suits to be made available at personnel hatch F.”

Scott looked at Kirk uncertainly. “Sir?”

Kirk shook his head, tension radiating from his body. “Spock’s the only person I know who’s as stubborn as me. I can see this isn’t going to happen unless he comes along to hold my hand.”

“I have no intention of holding your hand,” Spock retorted, scandalized by the very idea of such intimacy.

“Turn of phrase, Spock. Come on.”

Scott and one engineer accompanied them to the hatch, the chief giving them detailed instructions on how to recalibrate the navigational deflector and attaching the necessary toolkits to their belts once they were suited up.

Spock had only carried out one EVA during his Academy days a number of years earlier and recalled, as now, how disconcerting the initial sense of weightlessness felt. With no downward force pulling on him, it was as though his body were flying out in different directions at once. He could feel his bangs lift away from his forehead and had to consciously exert a degree of control over his limbs.

“Woooohooo!” came Kirk’s distinctive voice through the communication system. “Fucking awesome!”

With a small jerk of his legs, Kirk pushed himself away from the hatch and Spock quickly followed, determined not to allow Kirk further than a few meters away from him. As he hung, floating close to the hull, he watched as his captain executed a series of somersaults. “Yeeehaaah!”

Used to seeing a simulation of the star field via the screens on board, there was something very immediate when seeing them through nothing more than the thin sheet of transparent aluminum of their visors.

He felt a contact and turned to see Kirk had maneuvered to his side. “Look, there’s the Andromeda galaxy,” he said pointing to a place almost directly above them. Spock lifted his head to follow the gloved hand and could just make out the distinctive spiral of the closest galaxy to the Milky Way. Lying millions of light-years distant, it spun slowly like a discus thrown carelessly by some god and then forgotten into perpetuity. “And look down there, can you see the Large Magellanic Cloud?”

Again Spock followed the direction and could just make out a smudge beyond the local stars. Turning back to Kirk, he was struck by his captain’s childlike enchantment, his open enthusiasm untainted by his normal world-weariness.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Spock?”

The term ‘she’ threw him until he followed Kirk’s gaze, realizing he was referring to the Enterprise. The esthetic beauty and advanced engineering design of the vessel that was now their home, could not be denied.

“Yes Captain, she is.”

They had drifted away from the hatch and were now approximately twenty meters above the disk of the primary hull, the name of the ship emblazoned in letters as tall as those he’d once glimpsed in the Hollywood Hills during a visit to the southern California region. When he turned to Kirk, he found himself the recipient of a broad grin, followed by a clap to his back that sent him sailing away until he felt a hand grab his and his forward momentum was slowed.

“I told you I didn’t need you to hold my hand,” Kirk said, still grinning. “I didn’t realize I’d have to be holding yours!”

Spock felt his lips twitch in amusement and was glad his visor likely hid the fact of his slight loss of control. Seeing his captain enjoying himself so much, it was almost with a sense of regret that he directed Kirk back to the matter in hand.

Using small thrusters, they made their way to the deflector and could clearly see the damage, likely sustained during that moment they had dropped out of warp at Vulcan. During the eight weeks between returning to Earth after the Narada’s defeat and beginning the mission, the ship had undergone intensive repairs. However, having lost so many ships at once, thus leaving the entire Federation vulnerable to attack by any opportunist faction, the need to have the Enterprise back in commission had been paramount, and more minor repairs had gone untouched.

The two of them worked quickly and efficiently, with Kirk undertaking the patch-up and Spock providing the necessary tools. He found himself impressed with his captain’s engineering knowledge, having been somewhat doubtful he would know exactly what would be required to effect the correct repairs. He should not have underestimated Kirk’s ability, as his captain had demonstrated unexpected talents on a number of occasions in the past five months since leaving Earth, always in a most unassuming manner, which flew in the face of his Academy standing as something of a braggart. It wasn’t the first time Spock had wondered whether his captain’s reputation was less the result of his actions, and more as a consequence of rumors spread by those jealous of Kirk’s high degree of competency.

The repairs completed, before returning to the personnel hatch, Kirk spent a few minutes ‘playing’, as he called it, twisting, turning and tumbling, as Spock hung a few meters away and watched. Aware of the pressures of command sometimes weighing heavily on Kirk’s shoulders, Spock found himself willing to indulge his commander in his few minutes of apparent pleasure, even though it may not be logical.

The wrench back to a gravity environment caused his stomach to lurch in much the same way it had done when he had once been persuaded to take a roller-coaster ride, and he was acutely aware of the weight of his body, particularly his arms, which felt weighed down by lead.

“Fuck, I hate this bit,” Kirk said as the hatch closed behind them and the airlock was filled with the hissing sound of repressurization. Pulling off his helmet, Kirk’s hair was matted and flattened to his head. “Thanks for coming with me, Spock,” he said as he began to unseal his environmental suit. He paused and looked up with a grin. “That was fun.”

Spock would never admit it out loud to anyone, but he found himself agreeing.

-=-=-


	4. Chapter 4

Stardate 2259.3

“It’ll be _fun_ , Spock,” Kirk said, grinning, as they sat in the small briefing room at StarFleet Command. That they were sitting there at all was a surprise to Spock, as he hadn’t expected Kirk to take up his suggestion of applying for the Leadership course. They were one of eight pairs of command teams being trained to fill the gaps left by the massacre at the Battle of Vulcan.

They had spent three days sitting in a classroom, learning theoretical aspects of leadership and teamwork. Now they were about to put what they had learned into practice. Part of that challenge was the negotiation between the command team on would be a suitable task and Kirk was not giving any leeway. “I do not believe, when StarFleet designed this course, that ‘fun’ was part of the remit, Captain.”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “It’s whatever we make of it. Look, you don’t have a fear of heights or anything weird like that, do you?”

The thought was shocking to Spock – no Vulcan, with their degree of control, would experience anything as irrational as a phobia. “Certainly not. I am merely questioning in what manner climbing El Capitan could be construed as effective teamwork.”

“It’ll be more obvious once we begin. Come on – they’ve given us carte blanche to come up with an exercise. Half the course are sailing up or down the coast, the other half are crossing Death Valley on foot—”

“You exaggerate,” Spock interrupted. “There are—”

“Yeah, okay, spare me the statistics, Spock. Look, my solution’s nice and simple and easily achievable in three days. And it’s unique, because no-one else is doing it.” As if suddenly recalling that the probability that this exchange between them was being monitored was likely to be one hundred percent, Kirk shifted tack. “All right, what are some other options?”

Spock knew exactly why Kirk was pushing this – it had been number four on his captain’s wish list and, as such, had little to do with the leadership course they were now on. Would it, he wondered, be such a hardship to indulge Kirk in this particular ambition.

“As you say, we could make use of a sailing boat, although marine conditions are not currently favorable as _El Nino_ is currently causing a fifty four percent reduction in the wind component required. While my physiology would make walking across Death Valley a comfortable excursion, I am uncertain of the extreme heat on you. Likewise the option to cross from Base Seven to the South Pole, is not a task that finds much favor with me.”

Kirk looked as though he was going to say something, which Spock was certain related to his marooning of Kirk on Delta Vega, but he appeared to think better of it and closed his mouth.

“We could spend two days on Henderson Island in the Pacific’s Pitcairn Island group – what I believe you refer to as a ‘desert island’.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Kirk asked earnestly. Despite his obvious desire to fulfill his own wish, it was clear he was willing to go with Spock’s suggestion. That more than anything swung him to favor his captain.

“It would not be my first option. As a vegetarian, I believe the food choice would be most limited. If you will teach me the fundamentals of mountain climbing, I am willing to accept your choice.”

A bright and genuine smile lit up Kirk’s face. “You’ll love it!” he promised. Spock was not so sanguine, however, he was determined to make the most of this opportunity to forge a closer working relationship with his captain.

The route they chose, via ‘The Nose’ had been climbed thousands of times before and there was a great deal of information Spock was able to read to learn all he needed to know.

His superior strength meant that he was easily able to make the climb, and he listened carefully to Kirk’s instructions, learning as he went. The route was divided into ‘pitches’ of varying difficulty, some requiring free-climbing. Pitch 10 involved a ‘chimney’, shimmying up a deep crack while ensuring their backpacks didn’t get caught on any protuberances.

Their first night was spent on _El Cap Towers_ , a narrow ledge which allowed them horizontal rest – rated the ‘best bivvy’ on the climb. Food consisted of light-weight energy bars that were largely tasteless, but quickly provided a full feeling, washed down with fruit juice and water.

“How are you finding it so far?” Kirk asked. He looked tired, Spock thought, but there was a degree of contentment about him.

“I believe the level of exertion is less for me, due to my greater strength. However, as a novice, I believe I do not always recognize the most efficacious route leading to an unnecessary over-expenditure of energy, thus a certain degree of my natural advantage is negated. Nevertheless, I am deriving certain benefits from the exercise.”

“You’re enjoying it,” Kirk interpreted with a smile. “See I knew you would!”

Spock didn’t deny it, allowing the corners of his mouth to quirk slightly in amusement, causing Kirk’s smile to widen.

They climbed into their respective sleeping backs which were roped to the rockface, lying head to head along the narrow ledge. This rated as the most unusual place Spock had ever spent a night and, after the tiring climb, he got more sleep than he expected.

The following morning, he was woken just as light began to dawn. The air was chilly as he carefully struggled out of his sleeping bag.

“Hungry?” Kirk asked, rummaging in his backpack and pulled out more energy bars, as well as his toothbrush. Spock did likewise and they both brushed their teeth, using a small amount of their drinking water before eating.

“Did you sleep satisfactorily, Captain?” Spock asked after swallowing the first mouthful of the dry bar.

“Yeah, I was pretty tired by the time we reached here.” Kirk shifted and winced. “I’ve got aches where I didn’t know I had muscles.” Kirk pulled out a thermos flask and passed it to Spock. “Here’s some hot herbal tea – figured you might need it after a cold night out here.”

Spock was taken aback at Kirk’s thoughtfulness, knowing his captain did not care much for tea. Even so, he offered some, but it was declined with a smile as Kirk took a slug from a large bottle of water.

After they packed everything away, Kirk glanced at him sheepishly. “One thing to do before we get going. The wall dump.” Spock knew over three days they were going to have to take care of nature, and each had brought a ‘poop tube’ for the purpose. While uncomfortable with the lack of privacy, his captain’s matter of fact attitude made it easier, and for this reason, Spock found himself glad he was with Kirk on this expedition and not Uhura.

The next part of the climb was known as the ‘Texas Flake’ and Spock found he had learned some lessons the previous day which made the going easier for him. Kirk had warned him about the ‘King Swing’ which involved threading a rope through a hook and making two lateral swings to reach the next part of the climb. Spock watched Kirk carefully, and managed it without incident.

“You’re doing great, Spock,” Kirk encouraged.

They paused to drink water and Spock took the opportunity to take in the view, approximately 1500 meters above the valley floor. By late afternoon, they had reached ‘Camp 6’, well over two thirds of the way to the summit.

“I’m aching all over,” Kirk said, rolling his shoulders as he sat on the narrow ledge, his back against the hard granite rock-face.

Spock was concerned, as it had been an arduous climb. “Will you be able to complete the final ascent tomorrow?”

“You know what a stubborn bastard I am. I’ll be fine.”

Spock debated with himself whether to offer aid. In the end he decided it was the logical thing to do. “Captain, I may be of some assistance.”

“Yeah, how?”

“I am familiar with certain acupressure techniques that I believe will alleviate some of the tension.” It was cool enough that Kirk had two layers of clothing and there would be no need for contact with his skin.

“Sure, that would be good,” Kirk agreed with a grateful look.

The noises Kirk made has he applied both pressure and massage strokes to arms, shoulders and back were more than disconcerting, since they were not unlike the sounds Uhura made when they were coupling. Clearly his captain found his intervention pleasurable.

+

The following morning saw them begin the final part of the climb, which included the famous ‘Nose overhang’. After all he’d learned over the previous two days, Spock found this section the easiest of all. Just after midday, they reached the top.

“I feel like I’ve conquered the world, Spock,” Kirk said quietly, as he sat at the summit, gazing out across the peaks of Yosemite.

Spock lowered himself to sit beside his captain. He understood the sentiment – in making the climb, they had pitched themselves against nature, having to overcome difficulties and hurdles along the way, emerging triumphant.

“You saved the Earth, so you have more claim than others to having conquered it.”

Kirk turned to him. “Are you teasing me, Spock?”

He put on his sternest face. “I assure you, Vulcans never tease.”

“Right!” Kirk grinned. “Well, saving the Earth was pretty much a team-effort – just like our climb has been. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Spock was skeptical of the statement, but he could see Kirk’s sincerity as he said it. “I believe you underestimate your abilities.”

“For the climb, or generally? I mean, you and your Vulcan strength hauled my ass out of trouble on the way up three times that I can recall.”

Spock considered the six months since the start of their mission. “I meant the comment as pertaining to the climb. I believe in more general terms you understand your capabilities well enough.”

The sat in silence, taking in the magnificent scenery, the early Spring sun warming their skin. This time spent alone with Kirk had taught him little more about the man than he already knew. He had been doubtful this activity – or any of the others their colleagues had undertaken – would be of any use out in space, but as a team, they had worked seamlessly together, each of them playing to their natural strengths and unobtrusively assisting the other where needed. Gelling together, being able to anticipate each other, knowing what the other needed frequently before even they knew, was what made a good team, great. But most of all, what they had finally learned to do, was trust each other.

This had certainly been time well-spent.

-=-=-


	5. Chapter 5

Stardate 2259.7

“I hope I have been provided a stateroom, Captain,” Ambassador Adelheid Westfahlen said the moment she had finished materializing on the transporter pad. “I am used to certain standards of accommodation and do not believe in allowing those standards to slip.”

“Welcome aboard, Ambassadors,” Kirk said to the gathered group of six diplomatic staff. “You’ve been assigned a VIP stateroom, Ambassador Westfahlen – I hope you will find your quarters adequate,” he added directly to her with a slight bow.

“What time is dinner served this evening?” she asked. “I have a busy schedule.”

“We will be dining at 19:00, ma’am,” the captain responded with a smile.

“That’s not convenient. Make it 19:30.”

Spock was conscious that another group of Ambassadors were awaiting transportation from the Starbase, but the woman seemed oblivious of the fact she was holding everyone up.

“If no-one objects, we can push dinner back half an hour,” Kirk said in a mild tone, glancing at the rest of the group. Murmurs and shaking heads confirmed they were willing to go with Westfahlen’s demands. “Then it’s settled. Now if you don’t mind, you’ll be shown to your quarters. We have five more to beam up.”

As the group left, Spock could hear Westfahlen haranguing the yeoman assigned to her. She was, Spock decided, a most forthright woman. He estimated she was in her early thirties, her outward appearance was attractive, with wavy, blond hair that reached her waist, and piercing green eyes set in the flawless skin of her oval face. Although she was petite, barely reaching his shoulder, he could easily imagine that she would fill any room she was in.

As he’d watched Kirk ably handling the demanding diplomat, Spock reflected how much the captain had grown into his role in the ten months since the beginning of their mission. Since the leadership course, some shift had taken place which had not only altered their working relationship for the better, but had caused them both to seek each other’s off-duty company, with chess games in the main mess taking place at least twice a week.

Spock carefully managed his time so that he also spent several evenings a week with Nyota. She had made it known she didn’t like Spock spending more time with Kirk, but he had persuaded her of its necessity in continuing to build rapport between them. She had accepted his argument, though grudgingly.

When it came to their relationship, he and Nyota were very discreet and while the bridge and senior team were aware of their partnership, it was not common knowledge. They never spent a full night together on the ship – they had planned to save it for shoreleave but since the start of the mission that hadn’t been possible. Their first leave on Wrigleys, Spock had had to return to the ship with an unconscious navigator and a very drunk captain, and their second leave for two weeks on Earth had seen the first week taken up with the leadership course and the second overseeing the outstanding more minor repairs that were never undertaken after the battle with the Narada.

In truth, this had not been an issue for Spock. Because she was unable to control the flow of her emotions, when they shared any degree of intimacy he had to shield heavily to avoid his sixth sense becoming overwhelmed. Spending an entire night together, as they had once after their return to earth following Nero’s defeat, he would have had to maintain his telepathic shields all night, which would likely have left him less than well-rested. He wondered how his father had managed all those years.

Spock’s attention was brought back to the present by the hum of the transporter, indicating the second wave of ambassadors had arrived. Not with so much as a flicker, did Spock acknowledge his kinship with Ambassador Sarek as he materialized on the pad.

Kirk made a general welcome, and then turned to Sarek and held his hand in the Vulcan salute. “Sir, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Commander Spock has been assigned to you for the duration of our trip to Drigala Prime.”

“Captain,” Sarek responded, then turned to Spock. “Commander. My aide, Stefenor.” Spock nodded to Stefenor, never having met him before. He estimated him to be in his early forties – considerably younger than his father’s previous aide of many years standing, who had perished along with Vulcan. He found himself the recipient of a dark gaze. “Ambassador, Stefenor,” he said, ignoring the intent look, “if you will follow me.”

Spock led his charges to the nearby turbolift, their assigned guest staterooms being located on Deck 4. The stare continued unabated, and Spock wondered if he was being assessed, or perhaps just viewed as a curiosity, as had frequently occurred when he was a child. His birth had been greeted with such controversy, that he remained the only half Vulcan in existence. With Vulcan gone, he fully expected that to change in the coming years with cross-species propagation a necessity to ensure a broad gene-pool. Vulcans such as Stefenor would have to change their attitude and accept change as not only inevitable, but necessary for the survival of their species.

At the door, Spock keyed the lock and stood to one side to allow his father and Stefenor to enter first. Indicating two doors to his right, he said, “I trust you will find your sleeping accommodations adequate. A shared bathroom is located between the bedrooms. I will return at 19:25 to escort you to dinner.”

“Your service honors us,” Sarek responded quietly. Stefenor remained silent.

+

Having grown up with diplomatic staff, Spock was aware that they did not always use their skills in everyday interactions. He entered the Officers Mess with Sarek and Stefenor to find Ambassador Westfahlen had cornered Kirk, her voice raised. His instinct was immediately to go and assist, but he held back to learn more about the nature of the confrontation.

“Ma’am over the course of the three days ‘til we get to Drigala Prime, every ambassador will have the opportunity to sit at the Captain’s table. I’m sure you understand—”

“No, I do not understand!” she retorted, her arms folded across her chest. “I wish to sit here this evening.”

“Ambassador,” Uhura cut in, “I was the one who allocated the seating and—”

The woman rounded on Uhura. “Oh, so it’s your fault. What were you thinking?”

Before he’d even thought about it, Spock stepped up to stand at Uhura’s shoulder. She threw him a quick grateful look as Kirk brought the ambassador’s attention back to himself.

“We can re-arrange the seating if you like, but it means that tomorrow, when you were allocated a place here, you’ll be sat at another table.”

“Fine, fine. Just do it,” she ordered.

Uhura turned to Spock. “Now I’ve got to decide who she’ll replace.”

Spock looked at the place-names. “Stefenor,” he suggested quietly and the switch was quickly and discreetly made, the diplomatic guests enjoying aperitifs and hors d’oeuvres prior to taking their seats.

It didn’t take Spock long to fathom what the fuss had been about. Ambassador Westfahlen showed a great deal of interest in Sarek. At first he had thought it was to do with the topic of the up-coming conference they were attending, but when he saw her inappropriately touch his father for the third time, he realized in all likelihood, she was attracted to him. Even though it was clear Sarek was not responding, he felt something twist in his gut.

They were called to take their seats, the round tables seating six. Spock and Kirk were opposite each other, with Sarek and Westfahlen to his right and an Andorian and a Rigellian to his left. The touching continued, even boldly her hand to his as he held his fork.

“Madam,” Sarek finally said. "You are aware as a Vulcan, I am a touch telepath. I ask that you desist in your physical contact.”

Westfahlen looked taken aback at the perfunctory request. “My apologies Ambassador Sarek. I meant no offense.”

“None taken.”

Spock was certain Kirk had realized what was going on when his captain looked at him, and it was though they had exchanged a silent conversation. It was not without some degree of awe, given who Kirk was taking on, that he watched as his captain drew Westfahlen’s attention away from Sarek to himself, using his charm and more than a little flirting to capture her interest. Much to Spock’s relief – and in all likelihood Sarek’s, he conceded – Kirk’s plan worked, as she shifted herself more to face the captain, almost completely ignoring the older Vulcan seated beside her.

+

Three days later, Spock stood beside the captain in the transporter room. He had managed some time with his father, whom he'd just seen off, but had barely spoken to Stefenor. The Vulcan's treatment of him was fairly typical and he was reminded once again, that for all their talk of IDIC, they barely practised it. Ironically, it was Humans, with all their inherent prejudices, who accepted him for himself.

Ambassador Westfahelen swept in, her assigned Yeoman at her heels looking slightly flustered. Kirk bowed as she approached and, taking her hand, kissed it. “Ma’am, it’s been a pleasure to have you on board,” he said, with what Spock had come to think of as Kirk’s charming smile.  
  
“You have been a most gratifying host, Captain. I hope it’s not too long before we meet again.”  
  
As soon as all the guests had been beamed to Drigala Prime, Kirk headed back to the bridge. “Ach, I cannae stand all the schmoozing we’ve had to do,” complained Scott. “I’m thankful to be going back to ma wee bairns,” he added and left.  
  
Alone in the transporter, Uhura turned to Spock. “Jesus, can’t Kirk keep his dick in his pants for once?” she asked as she strode out towards the turbolift.  
  
“You are referring to his liaison with Ambassador Westfahlen?” he clarified as they stepped into the turbolift.  
  
“Yeah. He must have been pretty desperate to pick her.”  
  
Spock was about to correct her assumption, but the lift doors opened onto the bridge, where the crew were preparing to break orbit. Spock was aware that Uhura and Kirk had not met under auspicious circumstances and that his captain’s persistent attempts to persuade Nyota to sleep with him throughout their years at the Academy had not enamored him to her. It was ingrained enough that she looked for behaviors that appeared to support her negative beliefs in him. Telling her otherwise would not suffice, she would have to experience it for herself. Finding himself in the middle of this volatile triangle left him feeling uncomfortable. The best he could hope for, was that over time, Nyota would alter her attitude towards Kirk, but that wouldn’t occur until his captain was more persistently mature in his behavior.  
  
After their shift was over, Spock suggested a game of chess, but Kirk declined and it was at that point he noticed how tired and drawn the captain looked. Having arrived at Kirk’s quarters, Spock hesitated for a moment and then came to a decision.  
  
“May I have a word with you in private, Captain?”  
  
Kirk simply nodded and opened the door to his cabin.  
  
“Want a drink?” Kirk asked, pulling off his command shirt.  
  
Spock came to a stop in the middle of the cabin and took his ‘at ease’ stance. “No thank you. You are fatigued and I do not wish to keep you longer than is necessary.”  
  
Kirk dropped onto his couch and began to pull off his boots. “Go ahead,” Kirk encouraged.  
  
“I wish to share with you my gratitude for diverting Ambassador Westfahlen’s attention away from my father.”  
  
Kirk smiled wryly. “She was something else, wasn’t she? It was a novel experience, but seriously, she’s worn me out!”  
  
That was more information than Spock was comfortable knowing. “Sarek still grieves for my mother – the ambassador’s unwanted attention on him was…distressing.”  
  
Kirk tilted his head. “Distressing? Who for? You or your dad?”  
  
An honest answer required a degree of sharing that was unprecedented between them. Nevertheless, Spock felt comfortable with the confession. “Both of us,” he said quietly. “Good night, Captain.” With that, he turned and left.  
  
 _A novel experience_ , he thought to himself. Ah yes, he thought as he recalled Kirk’s wish list. Number seven was ‘fucking an ambassador’.  
  
Even though it had been on his captain’s list, given the number of diplomatic staff Kirk was likely to come into contact with over the next few years, he could likely have found someone with a far more attractive personality to fulfill that particular aspiration. Indeed, he had shown absolutely no sign of interest in Westfahlen prior to his realization that she was attracted to Sarek. It was an honestly selfless act and Spock had a lot to be grateful to Kirk for.  
  
-=-=-  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Stardate 2260.2

“This isn’t the most salubrious place in the galaxy,” Kirk said as his eyes passed over the motley congregation in the bar.

“Indeed not,” Spock agreed. “The difference, I believe, between Federation Starbases and independent space-stations.”

“The whiskey’s shit,” Kirk added with a grimace. “And watered down.”

Spock wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing there. Kirk had insisted on visiting the space-station ‘to see what it had to offer’, and Spock, knowing the place would be filled with, at best, misfits, and at worst, space criminals, had resolved not to let him go alone.

“Scotty’s freaking out over letting non-fed engineers carry out the repairs. If this is the caliber of people around here, I have to say, I’m not surprised.”

“The damage to the port nacelle was severe, we had no alternative.” Spock pointed out. They had limped to the space-station under impulse power after defeating an attack by Orion slave-traders. After disabling the ship and their weapons, they had managed to beam their ‘cargo’ of thirty four beings across to the Enterprise before the pirates had hit the self-destruct button. With the shields down to allow for beaming, the resultant explosion had caused serious damage to the ship’s propulsion system.

“You know Gaila came and formally apologized on behalf of her people for the attack. Scotty says she feels like her people have let her down.”

Gaila had been among the few survivors of the Vulcan massacre, found with three other Farragut crewmen in an escape pod, and Uhura had cried at the news. Her behavior had confused him, since her room-mate was alive, and he associated tears with unhappiness and grief. When she had explained the concept of ‘tears of joy’, he was left wondering how he would be able to tell the difference.

“The slave-traders were rogue,” Spock pointed out, “and operating outside of Orion law. More than likely—”

“What’s that smell? Ah, it’s James T. Kirk and his pet Vulcan.”

Spock stopped mid-sentence and turned to find himself face to face with two Klingons. Without looking he sensed Kirk tense beside him as he, too, turned.

“Kirk’s even smaller than he looks on the vid-casts, isn’t he, Kraal?”

Spock placed a restraining hand against Kirk’s arm, knowing he was ready to do battle, but didn’t take his eyes off the Klingons.

“Too scared to fight?” Kraal asked. “Neither of you man enough to take us on?”

“We’re here in peace,” Kirk replied, although his body language, Spock could easily discern, was saying otherwise.

“Is that so, Kirk?” Kraal almost spat. “Is that why you destroyed that Orion vessel?”

“They self-destructed after they attacked us without warning,” Kirk corrected. “And they were trading in slaves.”

“Slaves bound for the Empire. Slaves bought and paid for. Slaves which you have stolen.”

Spock knew that a fight was inevitable. The problem he faced was that taking out his communicator to call for reinforcements would likely precipitate it.

“This is Federation space and trading in slaves is outlawed,” Kirk pointed out, his voice calm, though Spock could detect the edge in it. “Most of the victims are Federation citizens. That constitutes an attack against the Federation, which is an act of aggression, that could lead to war. Are you stating that you’re responsible for that?”

In truth, while what Kirk said was true, if somewhat exaggerated, Spock knew there was little they could do while on the space station, since it was declared independent territory. The Klingons were well aware of that, and were likely spoiling for a fight out of anger at having lost their cargo.

“Whatever,” Kraal responded. “There’s nothing you or your pissy little ship can do here.”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Spock that Kirk landed the first punch, causing Kraal to stagger backwards at the impact. The second Klingon was no match for Vulcan strength and with a dull thud, his body impacted a nearby wall. Spock walked over as the dazed Klingon attempted to stand, and with a pinch to the correct pressure point, sent him out cold. It was over so soon for him, it was almost an anti-climax.

Turning, he found Kirk was about evenly matched with Kraal and debated whether to assist. From what he had learned about his captain over the eighteen months they had worked together, he realized he knew the answer. Only if Kirk was in mortal danger, should he intervene.

The bar patrons had all pulled back, giving the Human and Klingon space to fight, shouting and cheering as though it were some form of entertainment. Kirk, he knew from personal experience, was a good fighter. Not only had his captain run advanced hand-to-hand combat classes, but the two of them sparred at least once a month and Kirk had learned some useful tactics to use against those with superior strength. Spock frequently had bruises to prove the efficacy of his instructions.

Kraal was slower and less graceful than Kirk, and it was that, despite his far larger build, that was his undoing. It was also likely, given the specific areas Kirk was attacking on Kraal, that he had paid attention in his xeno-biology classes. Three minutes later, the second Klingon was out cold.

Despite some cuts and bruises as they beamed up, Kirk looked happy. With Scotty busy with repairs, a junior transport tech was there to greet them, his eyes widening at seeing Kirk looking so battered.

“I better avoid Bones. If he sees me like this, he’ll kill me,” Kirk said with a grin, wiping some blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

They walked together towards the turbolift. “I very much doubt that, Captain. It has been my observation that he is the one usually attempting to keep you alive.”

Kirk grinned as he punched in their deck on the lift controls. “All I did was go down for a drink and I couldn’t stay out of trouble. When he finds out, I’ll tell him I didn’t go see him because sickbay’s full of the people we beamed over, and I didn’t want him to stop seeing to them, to fix me up.”

The rode the lift in silence while Spock considered Kirk’s perplexing behavior. As they stepped out and headed towards their quarters, he voiced his puzzlement. “Given the injuries you have, I do not understand why you appear to be so energized.”

They paused at Kirk’s door as he entered his code. “I’m happy, Spock, because I got to beat up a Klingon.” With that, he slapped him on his arm and entered his quarters.

‘Beating up a Klingon’ had been number eight on Kirk’s wish list.

In ancient Vulcan times, he and Kirk would have been classed as more than warriors, more as shieldmates, sworn to protect each other. Although illogical, his instinct had been to give Kirk the space, and he had been right to do so. His captain would not have thanked him if he had gone in and rendered the Klingon unconscious. It was Kirk’s battle and it was one he needed to fight. His resultant euphoria and sense of victory, not to mention the strong sense of self-esteem the conquest had given Kirk, made the minor injuries worth it. It was an important lesson, not just in understanding his captain’s psyche, but also in not underestimating Kirk’s abilities.

-=-=-


	7. Chapter 7

Stardate 2261.1

Uhura sat in Spock’s cabin, tears silently sliding down her face. Spock wished he could comfort her, but sensed she wanted space and, if here were honest, he would admit he felt relieved as the emotions washing over her were so strong. Uhura had begun her grieving for her mother who, she had just learned, was dying of an incurable disease, the progression of which had been rapid. Spock was uncomfortably aware that her grief was tripping off his own unresolved feelings for the death of his mother.  
  
All he could do was sit with her. It somehow felt inadequate.  
  
The following day, Kirk summoned Spock to his quarters.  
  
“I want to talk to you off the record,” Kirk said as soon as the door had closed behind him.  
  
“Sir?” Spock had no idea what his captain was talking about.  
  
“We’ve got to find a way to get Uhura to Earth, right? I’ve been trying to figure out how we can do it.”  
  
“Captain, we’re on course for Gamma Aurigae VI, our current heading taking us away from the Sol system.”  
  
“Right. But we’re only a day away from New Vulcan, and there are transports going back and forth from there to Earth all the time.”  
  
They were on a tight schedule and could not afford to lose a day. Kirk had to know that. “Captain—”  
  
Kirk put his hand up to stop him. “Not captain – this is off the record, remember. It’s just Spock and Jim, one friend trying to figure out how he can help the other friend’s girlfriend.”  
  
“Jim.” It was the first time he’d called his captain by his given name and Kirk’s bright smile told him Kirk knew it too. “I fail to see how we can divert to New Vulcan without StarFleet knowing, nor how we would make up the time such a diversion would necessarily entail, if we are to achieve our scheduled arrival at Gamma Aurigae.”  
  
Kirk smiled. “Bones thinks you’re coming down with Golian Flu.  
  
“I—” Spock stopped his automatic denial. “I believe the doctor is correct.”  
  
“Right. He thinks you need to see a Healer on New Vulcan as it can impair your telepathic abilities and could be fatal.”  
  
“Indeed, there are healers on New Vulcan who could verify the symptoms and effect a rapid cure.”  
  
“How rapid?” Kirk asked, grinning.  
  
“Almost instantaneous,” Spock assured, knowing his amusement was showing on his face. “I take it you have explored other avenues before resorting to this?”  
  
“Yeah, there’s nothing out here that’s going towards Earth, not without her having to do like, three changes to get there. So I figured this would be the next best thing.”  
  
“How do you intend to explain the sudden absence of your communications officer?”  
  
“Right, well first off, since you’re on the endangered species list, StarFleet won’t try and stop us from taking you there. Then, while en route to New Vulcan, Uhura gets a message from Earth, so we’ll decide to drop her off while we’re there. They wouldn’t be able to prove otherwise, and in fact, if you speak to her and get her family to formally notify StarFleet once we’ve made the course change, it’ll look even better.”  
  
“Your plan, while convoluted, has merit,” Spock conceded.  
  
Uhura would be most pleased, he knew. Her attitude towards Kirk had been gradually improving over the past two years. He believed it was because of their high degree of success in their assigned missions, which was in great part due to Kirk’s tactical and problem-solving skills as well as his strong leadership. With Spock’s support, Kirk had begun to mature into his command. This action would certainly be another reason for Uhura to see Kirk in a more favorable light.  
  
“The downside to this, Spock,” Kirk added, “is that you’re going to be confined to quarters for twenty four hours until our arrival, although I’ll turn a blind eye to any work you want to carry out from your cabin.”  
  
Spock felt relieved he would at least be able to get on with some of his on-going science projects. “If you’re not busy, would you be amenable to a game of chess?”  
  
Kirk’s face showed puzzlement. “Since we’re dropping Uhura off and you won’t see her for god knows how long, won’t you want to spend some time with her?”  
  
Spock glanced at the floor, finding what he wanted to say, difficult. “I will spend time with Nyota, but she is aware that I find her grief…overwhelming. I—” Spock paused, unsure how to express what it was he wished to say, what he was comfortable admitting to.  
  
“It’s a bit too close to home?” Kirk asked quietly.  
  
Spock looked up into a pair of perceptive blue eyes. “Yes. Although it has been two point four years, it is still too soon.” That was more than he’d been able to say to Nyota, and he marveled at how unexpectedly easy it was to talk to Kirk.  
  
“I’ll drop by at 21:00 to beat the pants off of you.” Kirk returned to the original topic with a smile.  
  
“I believe,” Spock said, his face very serious, “that the phrase is, ‘I should like to see you try’.”  
  
Kirk laughed, as Spock knew he would. “You do realize this is Jim Kirk you’re challenging here?  
  
+  
  
The following day, having assumed orbit around New Vulcan, Spock stood in the transporter room with Uhura.  
  
“I’m sorry, Spock. I know my grief’s been hard to handle.”  
  
He couldn’t deny it. “The cause is sufficient,” he said, solemnly. There was an odd distance between them – more than the physical distance of two meters which separated them, it was an emotional awkwardness that he didn’t know how to bridge. He supposed Nyota was correct, that his sense of detachment was due to her continuing grief, the strength of which he found uncomfortable, and he found himself feeling a sense of inadequacy both as a friend and lover. With that thought, he forced himself to walk up to her and embrace her, strengthening his telepathic shields with each step.  
  
Uhura’s arms slipped tentatively around him and she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’ve missed this,” she confessed in a whisper. “I’ve missed _you_.”  
  
Spock had no words, so he patted her back in what he hoped would be a gesture of comfort. Their embrace was interrupted by the door opening and Spock pulled away, trying to ignore the relief he felt.  
  
“Uh, you want me to come back in a minute?” Kirk said.  
  
“No, it’s okay – I’m ready to go,” Uhura said, turning to face him.  
  
“I’ve…uh…managed to get an upgrade for you on your transport to Earth,” Kirk explained. “You’ll have the luxury of First Class travel.”  
  
Spock knew, and believed Nyota would too, that those kind of ‘upgrades’ only occurred when credits were involved.  
  
Uhura walked over to where Kirk stood at the transporter controls. “Jim, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”  
  
“Hey Uhura, that’s what friends are for!” Kirk said, smiling warmly.  
  
“Nyota, Jim. I think it’s about time you got to call me by my given name.”  
  
Spock watched as Kirk’s smile grew even wider. “Seriously? I can call you Nyota and you won’t kick me in the nuts?”  
  
A small answering smile appeared. “Only as long as you don’t push your luck.”  
  
“That’s my gal!” Kirk grinned. “Don’t want you going all soft me.”  
  
“Not a chance!” she responded lightly over her shoulder as she walked toward the transporter pad, picking up a large valise on her way.  
  
Spock watched the interaction with interest, noticing how Uhura’s previous defeated appearance had been replaced by her more usual look of determination. He didn’t understand what Kirk had done, why it had had such a beneficial effect, and once again as he pondered the complexities of Human emotions and interactions, he wondered how his father had coped so well.  
  
“We’re beaming you to the New Vulcan spaceport – the ship to Earth leaves in a couple of hours. Take care, Nyota. Stay as long as you need to, okay? When you’re ready to come back, we’ll figure out a way to rendezvous with you.”  
  
Uhura nodded and turned to Spock. Taking his hands in hers, she looked up at him, her eyes brighter than they had been just a minute ago, and he realized they filled with unshed tears. “Make sure Jim doesn’t replace me as his comms. officer while I’m gone,” she said with a smile, and letting go of his hands, climbed up to stand on one of the pads.  
  
Spock thought it a strange and out of place statement, given that she was about to leave to go home and watch her mother die. He had no idea how to respond to her comment. “Go in peace,” was all he could think to say.  
  
She sniffed, a side-effect he recognized from holding back the tears “I will,” she said softly and then turning to Kirk, she nodded that she was ready. A moment later, she disappeared in the sparkling beam.  
  
“You’re wondering what the joking was about,” Kirk said, as if he could read Spock’s thoughts.  
  
“I am puzzled by it,” he admitted.  
  
“It’s a defense mechanism, when our emotions are too strong and for whatever reason, we don’t want to acknowledge them, or inflict them on everyone else, we fall back on humor. It’s a tension reliever.  
  
Spock could immediately recall at least half a dozen times when Kirk had appeared to make jocular remarks at tense times that were inappropriate to the occasion, and how those around him had laughed. As he thought about it, the tension had indeed been relieved. It was a highly effective method, he realized, of Kirk ensuring his crew operated at optimum efficiency, no matter what the situation.  
  
During the Narada crisis, he had sensed Kirk’s amusement to comments he had made, and now wondered, regardless of the fact that he had not intended them as humorous, whether his captain had taken them that way, nonetheless, thereby easing the tension. Fascinating, he thought.  
  
“I guess the sooner we send you down, the sooner you’ll be back,” Kirk said, breaking into Spock’s thoughts. “Too bad your dad’s not here.”  
  
“Indeed. My appointment with Healer Shral is for thirteen standard minutes.”  
  
“Thirteen? Not ten or fifteen?” Kirk grinned.  
  
“I believe he will require less time than that to pronounce me fit to return to duty,” Spock replied. “And even were my father at the colony, I would not delay the ship to visit. We are already nineteen point three hours behind schedule.”  
  
“Sometimes personal stuff has to come before duty, Spock,” Kirk said, and he easily discerned the layers of meaning behind the straightforward comment.  
  
“Your payment to upgrade was a most generous gesture,” Spock said, wanting Kirk to know he was aware of his deed. It was a thoughtful act, one he had not considered himself.  
  
“Nyota’s a friend. It’s what friends do,” he responded, looking a little flustered. “Besides,” he added with a grin, “what else am I going to spend all my hard-earned credits on?”  
  
Spock wondered why his captain had appeared embarrassed. Surely he would know the truth was easily discernable. He then realized that Nyota had said nothing, though she must have known too. Perhaps the etiquette in such situations was to pretend not to know.  
  
“I believe you have waited a considerable length of time for Nyota to give you her name,” he said, changing the subject. Yet another item on Kirk’s wish-list.  
  
“Six and a half years. I guess patience does pay off – but for god’s sake, don’t tell Bones I said that or he’ll drag me in to sickbay to get my head examined!”  
  
There was no denying Kirk’s impulsive nature, Spock thought, as he took his position on a transporter pad. “Your secret is safe with me,” he said, allowing his lips to quirk slightly.  
  
The last thing he saw before he dematerialized was Kirk’s broad smile and he acknowledged to himself that he gained a degree of gratification in eliciting such a reaction in his captain.  
  
+  
  
Uhura was gone for four weeks and Spock found he missed her company. When she came back, she was, as he expected, subdued and still wrapped in grief. What he hadn’t expected, was for her to tell him she wanted to end their relationship.  
  
“I do not understand your reasoning.”  
  
He watched as Uhura picked up his hands in hers and as her grief suddenly washed over him, he was unable to prevent himself from flinching at the onslaught. “That’s why, Spock. I know I’m grieving, so my emotions are more volatile and uncontrolled than usual, but ever since I’ve known you, you’ve suffered to some degree with my lack of emotional control. It’s why we rarely spend nights together – it’s just too intense for you, isn’t it?”  
  
She released his hands and he felt relief as he nodded in answer. What Uhura said could not be denied. “I believed I would grow accustomed to it,” he admitted. “My father found an effective method to deal with my mother’s emotions. However, after three years, I have not seen an alteration.”  
  
“I still love you, Spock, but I think we’ve grown apart because of this issue for you. It just hasn’t worked out – sometimes relationships are like that. But I want to still be friends, if you can manage that.”  
  
“I would wish for us to maintain our friendship – it is… _you are_ – very important to me.”  
  
Uhura smiled. “Then that’s settled. I’m glad we’ll still be best friends. I couldn’t bear to do this if I were to lose that, too.” A tear slid down her face and she looked down at her clasped hands.  
  
Spock put his hand out and captured the tear. “Tears of sadness,” he said quietly.  
  
“And of joy, Spock – for keeping our special friendship. It means a lot to me.”  
  
-=-=-  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Stardate 2262.2

“Long range sensors indicate a technologically advanced civilization, comparable to twenty second century Earth.”

Kirk got up and came over to the science station, standing just behind Spock’s left shoulder. “Warp technology?”

“Affirmative. I estimate if we remain on our current course, they will be able to detect us in one point three hours.”

“Sulu, put us on impulse power only; continue on the same heading.”

Spock swiveled his chair around to watch as Kirk returned to his seat, awaiting further orders. His captain’s stance he recognized as the one adopted when he was considering options.

“Now on impulse power only Captain,” Sulu confirmed.

The bridge went quiet, broken only by the turbolift doors opening. Spock didn’t need to turn to know it was the doctor. He had long ago learned that McCoy’s inherent dislike of travel in any vessel, be it a shuttle or a spaceship, caused him to be particularly sensitive to any changes, such as dropping out of warp.

“Bones,” Kirk smiled up at his friend.

“Something up?”

Spock had also learned to detect the more subtle nuances of the doctor’s behavior, a useful ability when debating with him, as they frequently did. The words themselves were innocuous, but there was a tension about him that belied the straightforward question.

“We’ve got a potential first contact. I’m hanging back, trying to decide how to handle this.”

Spock wasn’t surprised at Kirk’s circumspection. The last three first contacts had all been hostile, two of which had resulted in the loss of life of crew members, and Kirk himself had almost died from his injuries on the last occasion. Though it had been unforeseen and therefore unavoidable, his captain had held himself personally accountable.

“Can’t we just pretend we didn’t see them?” McCoy asked with a note of hope in his voice. He and Kirk were close and the fact that McCoy’s skills had only just barely saved his friend had taken its toll. Over the last three point six years, Kirk had been injured on six occasions, twice critically, but none had taken him as close to death as that last time.

“We have to do this, Bones,” Kirk replied. He took his friend’s arm and a gave it a squeeze. “It’s our mission.” He then turned his chair to the communications officer. “Uhura, call all senior staff to briefing room two in fifteen minutes. Spock, get me as much data as you can on the planet and its inhabitants.”

“I just don’t want to have to patch you up again, Jim. Every time you go down to a new planet, it plays havoc with my stress levels. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Kirk grinned. “I know, old man. But would you have it any other way?”

McCoy leaned down to speak more quietly, as if to share some profound pearl of wisdom. Although whispered, Vulcan ears were sensitive enough to pick it up. “Asshole.”

Kirk’s laughter followed the doctor to the turbolift.

Spock turned his attention to data collection, his hands flying over his console as he passed down orders to members of his science department. He could easily do it all himself, but had realized early on in the mission that delegating tasks to his team not only improved their skills, but their involvement in preparation for missions such as this also appeared to keep them motivated.

With half his attention turned towards his task, the other half pondered the friendship between Kirk and McCoy. Initially, he had been taken aback at the degree of irreverence between them, but he had long since grown used to it, understanding it was a fundamental part of their friendship. Kirk had once told him the story of how they’d first met, and given the odd encounter and how it had seemed to connect them, he understood the two men had simply built on that.

In the years since he had worked closely with them, he had slowly comprehended that both men were masters of disguise, projecting an image that was at odds with who they truly were. It had taken Kirk’s first serious injury for Spock to see the genuine caring nature the doctor carefully hid away behind his gruff exterior. Uhura had given him further insight, explaining that it was likely a defense mechanism designed to prevent people getting too close and potentially hurting him. For that to be the case, Spock realized, he must be far more sensitive than he had given him credit for.

Kirk, on the other hand, liked to exude an air of brash confidence and cheerfulness, but even in the earliest days of working together, Spock had sensed his captain’s doubts about his own abilities as an effective commander. A little over a year into their mission, Kirk began to hesitantly voice his concerns over their quiet games of chess, which had moved from the main mess to one or other of their quarters, seeking feedback from him on the performance of his duties.

Spock had found himself grateful that his years as an Academy instructor had taught him the art of giving critical feedback to Humans in a constructive manner that would enable them to learn, rather than cause them to lose confidence. It had been quite a learning curve for him, since his own experience of receiving feedback on Vulcan was that it was generally brutal and to the point. Emotional reactions were obviously not a consideration.

That had been the beginning of their own friendship, which was very different in flavor to the one his captain shared with the doctor. Since Uhura had ended their intimate relationship not long after she had returned from Earth after the death of her mother, he and Kirk spent a greater proportion of their off-duty time together.

Just as Kirk had two very different friends in McCoy and himself, so he had two equally different friends in his captain and Uhura. In the time since she had ended their sexual intimacy, which in truth had been a relief, he had come to appreciate the degree of closeness they had maintained through friendship. They had managed to continue the part of their connection he was most comfortable with, and he continued to regularly seek out her companionship.

When Spock and Kirk entered the briefing room, it was buzzing with energy. Spock had wanted to gather all the data he’d been sent by his team and conduct an initial analysis, and Kirk had waited back for him. Kirk took his usual position at the head of the table, Spock to his right opposite McCoy.

“Well people, looks like this is going to be another First Contact. Spock?”

“The planet is Class M, with an axis tilt of five degrees resulting in seasonal changes throughout the year, although the mean temperature is somewhat colder than Earth, ranging from ten degrees Celsius in the sparsely populated equatorial region to minus one hundred and ten Celsius at the poles. Initial data suggests theirs is a peaceful society with no sign of weapons of mass destruction either now or in their history.”

“Something to be thankful for,” the chief of Security said. “Our analysis suggests no weapons of any kind, not even personal ones – at least none that we recognize.”

“Diseases?” Kirk asked.

“None that we don’t already know about and can immunize against,” McCoy confirmed. “They apparently haven’t yet found cures for viral infections – we can help them with that.”

“How can you tell?” Kirk asked, his curiosity piqued.

“From the incidence of viruses in their atmosphere – once the scientists on Earth figured it out a century and a half ago, there were a lot fewer of those critters around.

“Critters?” Kirk grinned. McCoy scowled back, and Spock took the opportunity to continue providing data from his analysis.

“The species is humanoid—”

“The Preservers?” Kirk interrupted.

“In all probability, Captain.” Spock confirmed.

“What or who are the Preservers?” Scott asked. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“Little is known about them,” Spock explained. “It is believed they were an ancient race of aliens who visited Earth thousands of years ago and removed some human specimens from the planet. They then seeded those humans on other planets within the galaxy that had similar Earth-like environments. It is not known why they did this, but it does serve to explain the reason there are so many variants of humanoid races exist.”

“I did wonder about that,” confirmed Scotty.

“Indeed, given the significant distance from any other inhabited systems, the statistical likelihood of a humanoid species evolving on this planet is zero point zero four six percent. In all likelihood, this was one of the planets that was seeded.”

“Do we know what they look like?” McCoy asked.

“Indeed, one of my team was able to intercept transmissions similar to the ancient television broadcasts of Earth. At this distance, these images are approximately sixty years old.” At the press of a button, the viewscreens in front of them came to life, depicting a selection of images that showed people with similar features to Humans, their pale skin holding a slightly blue tinge, and entirely devoid of hair. The sounds of their speech had a sing-song quality to it.

“Any chance of getting a handle on their language?” Kirk asked Uhura.

“I’m on it, Captain,” Uhura came back immediately. “Spock fed me these broadcasts earlier and I’ve been working on getting our universal translator to figure it out. I think I’m almost there.”

“Good work – it’ll make the contact a hell of a lot easier if we can understand each other. As soon as you’ve got it figured, start sending the standard First Contact messages, and once we get a response, we’ll take it from there. We’ll hang back here until then – I don’t want to cause any potential panic.” Kirk glanced around the briefing room. “Any questions?”

When none were forthcoming, everyone went back to their stations for what Kirk called ‘the waiting game’.

+

“Greetings, Federation beings,” the translator stuttered as Kirk, Spock, Uhura and McCoy stood before the planetary president and his representatives. “My connect-term is Fri’ilo and I am _speaker/representative_ for my people. We welcome _you-friends_ to Tradori.” All this was said with Fri’ilo’s hands held outward, close to his mouth, as if he were shouting to be heard.

They were all wearing arctic-weather gear as the temperature the Tradori lived at was well below Human norms, apparently preferring temperatures close to freezing.

Kirk copied the odd gesture. “Greetings, Fri’ilo. I’m James Kirk, captain of the United Federation Starship, Enterprise. These are some of my crew – First Officer Spock, Doctor McCoy and Communications Officer Uhura. We come in peace.”

Fri’ilo dropped his hands. “Welcome James _crew-companions_. I sense strong _friend-bonds_.”

Kirk turned to Spock, his eyebrows raised. “I believe the Tradori people have empathic abilities similar to Betazoids.”

Fri’ilo held his hands up again. “You do not _sense/discern/intuit_ your _bond-friends_?” he asked as the translator again stuttered over a suitable translation for his word, ‘kran’.

“There are some species in the Federation,” Kirk replied, “who are able to… _kran_ …but none on my crew. Spock is Vulcan, and with physical contact, is able to understand another’s thoughts and feelings. Because his species values privacy and honors it in others, he avoids bodily contact.”

Fri’ilo walked up to Spock and once again held his hands up. “Your appearance differs. You are more difficult to _kran_.”

“As a Vulcan, I control my emotions, prizing logic above all else.”

“Yet your emotions are not so controlled that you are unable to forge close _friend-bonds_. You have strong _tie/link/connection_ with each of your _crew-companions_ here.” Again the translator failed to find a suitable word for ‘grell’.

This was information Spock would rather not have discussed in public, especially in McCoy’s presence, as he’d never allowed the doctor to know how much he valued him, both professionally and personally. It was with effort that he maintained eye-contact with Fri’ilo, even as he could feel McCoy’s assessing gaze on him.

“You are correct,” Spock agreed quietly. “The _grell_ is a vital part of working and living together when we are far from our homes.”

Fri’ilo stood back from the group. “We all agree that your friendship offer is sincere and we wish to learn more from you.

+

Kirk sat back after moving his rook to the top level. The move was entirely illogical and didn’t fit into any of the potential strategies Spock believed Kirk was planning.

“You know, it was pure fluke that it was the four of us who went down. It could have been me and Giotto, or some of your science team…or anyone else really, and they wouldn’t have sensed the _grell_ – that connection – between us. And given that we didn’t know how vital those empathic connections and bonds are between them – almost like a hive mentality – it could have led to a completely different outcome.”

“I would suggest the term ‘collective consciousness’ would be a more accurate descriptor, as there is no discernable hierarchy among the Tradori. Fri’ilo was simply a spokesperson with no power of his own. The strong connectedness and empathic abilities explain why they are a peaceful culture with no history of wars. The subtleties when encountering new civilizations, I am certain, are often overlooked during First Contacts.” Spock moved his bishop to a position which threatened Kirk’s rook.

“Well, we at least we got this one right. It’s my first friendly First Contact and I’m feeling pretty proud.”

A friendly first contact was another of Kirk’s wish list fulfilled, Spock recalled. “Given the rich dilithium deposits on two of Tradori’s neighboring planets, I believe you will be, as they say, in Admiral Pike’s good books.”

“You’re not being cynical, are you?”

“Merely pragmatic, Jim. This contact will have a broad appeal – for those who truly value the StarFleet mission, and also for the politicians.”

“Spock, you know there’s the very real concern that if dilithium sources run out within Federation boundaries, we won’t be able to protect ourselves from our enemies. You can’t blame the politicians for making a continued source a priority.”

“I do not blame them; I am merely acknowledging their separate, and not necessarily aligned, agenda.”

“So, what’s with the _grell_ thing between you and McCoy?” Kirk asked, changing the subject. “Have you been holding out on me, Spock?”

Spock schooled his face into one he knew Kirk would interpret as indignation. “I believe he sensed my regard for McCoy as an adequate doctor.”

Kirk grinned. “An adequate doctor? Shit, I wish Bones could hear you say that. He’d probably hit you with a hypospray of something nasty and mega-itchy.”

The mild teasing was something that had sprung up between them over the past year. He knew Kirk was very well aware how highly he really rated McCoy’s skills and of the ‘truce’ the two of them had tacitly called when Kirk was critically injured and on the danger list for several days.

Spock somehow knew that Kirk was thinking about some of the other things Fri’ilo had sensed between them. In a later meeting, the Tradori had spoken of the close bond between Kirk and him, one Spock had barely acknowledged to himself. He had been aware of their growing closeness for some time, but had refused to analyze its nature. From Fri’ilo’s comments, it appeared that whatever it was they shared, it was two way.

What had been perhaps a bigger surprise, at least to both Kirk and himself, was the emphasis Fri’ilo placed on the _grell_ between McCoy and Nyota.

“Spock, can I ask you something personal?”

“You may, with the caveat that I may choose not to answer.” It was his standard response to the odd occasions when Kirk asked that question. To date, however, he had never refused an answer.

“Are you and Nyota still together? I mean…you know, is she still your girlfriend?”

The term ‘girlfriend’ perhaps more so than ‘boyfriend’ had several connotations, since it was frequently used in platonic relationships. Kirk had clearly been thinking about Fri’ilo’s comments about their mutual friends and was therefore reasonably certain he understood the correct interpretation of Kirk’s question. He wished to ensure his answer was fully understood, with little likelihood of ambiguity.

“I understand you are asking if Nyota and I share an intimate relationship, and the answer is no. It ceased eight months ago, however we continue to value the friendship we share.”

“I was pretty sure, but you guys still spend off-duty time together. I’m not going to ask you why it ended, but I’m glad it hasn’t stopped you being friends. I can tell you, that isn’t the norm – what Bones went through is more common.”

Although the doctor guarded his privacy almost as fiercely as Spock, and rarely discussed his personal life, he was aware that his divorce had been acrimonious and that access to his daughter while McCoy had been at the Academy, had been sporadic. It had apparently improved following the publicity surrounding the doctor’s involvement in the Narada incident and his taking on the role of CMO of the Federation’s Flagship.

“So…” Kirk said, sliding his king one space to the right, “…that leads me to wondering what’s going on between Bones and Nyota that they’ve been holding out on us, or do you know something I don’t?”

“I believe I know many things that you don’t,” Spock couldn’t resist saying, eliciting a smile from Kirk. “However, I am unaware of any intimacy between them. Perhaps it is an attraction only.”

Kirk grinned. “I think I’m going to have to get Bones drunk.” He moved his queen down a level.

“Is that not an underhand method of gaining information? If the doctor wished to talk to you, then surely he would do so without the need for an intervention on your part.”

“I used to think that, but after years of knowing him, I’ve realized he just finds it difficult to talk about personal stuff, but it’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just doesn’t know _how_. Getting drunk gives him the excuse to ‘let go’ and then afterwards he can put it down to a temporary aberration brought about by a nosy best friend.”

“How did you come to make this discovery?” Spock wondered aloud.

“The first time I met him. I’ve told you the story about the shuttle from Riverside, right? He was pretty wasted when he sat down – and had more booze in a flask. Came right out and told me about his marriage ending and stuff, and then never mentioned it again until the next time he got shit-faced. It didn’t take me long to see the pattern.”

As Spock studied the board, he felt mildly scandalized at the underhand tactics. “And utilizing this method – there are no ramifications to your friendship afterward?”

“Nope. It’s never openly discussed again, so we can both pretend it never happened. Except that later he often says something and I’ll only get it because of what I know, so in a roundabout way, he’s kind of tacitly acknowledging we’ve had those talks. The thing is…it’s pretty much the same for me and he uses the same routine to weasel stuff out of me. So it works both ways.”

Spock contemplated that notion as he moved his bishop into check. It was certainly true that Kirk rarely volunteered personal information. Beyond a vague idea that his upbringing had been less than ideal, he knew nothing of Kirk’s childhood. Then again, neither had he shared much of himself either.

“Due to alcohol having no effect on Vulcans, it is not a method that would be effective with me.” This was as close as Spock was comfortable getting, with allowing Kirk to know that he was willing to open up more, should his captain be interested. In no way did he intend to encourage Kirk to imbibe alcohol in order to effect a reciprocation, however.

Kirk studied the board for a minute, and then moved his rook to take Spock’s bishop. “So, what method _would_ be effective?”

“I will leave you to fathom the correct methodology.” Spock moved his queen down two levels. “Check mate, Jim.”

Kirk grinned at him. “I guess you got me there.”

-=-=-


	9. Chapter 9

Stardate 2262.3

“You’re curious about what the Tradori picked up between Leonard and me, but you’re too Vulcan to ask,” Uhura said with a smile as she brought two cups of steaming herbal tea to Spock’s desk.

“You know I would not pry, Nyota,” Spock responded as he picked up the cup in both hands to allow the warmth to seep through his skin.

“I like Leonard. A lot. But I don’t know if he’s attracted to me. He’s almost as bad as you at hiding his feelings – yes, really, even though he’s so emotional.”

“You would be interested in an intimate relationship with him?” Spock asked, to ensure he understood correctly. Humans used terms interchangeably so a word such as ‘like’ could have a number of subtly different meanings.

“Yes, I would. It’s no reflection on you, Spock, but he can give me the emotional support that I know was beyond your capability. He and I started to really talk around the time when I first heard my mum was dying.”

Spock understood his own limitations enough not to see Uhura’s comment as a judgment of his shortcomings.

“If it is what you both wish, then I will be gratified if your relationship were to deepen.”

“The Tradori gave me hope that Leonard might feel something for me. But he got badly burned once and I guess he’s a little scared of putting himself in a vulnerable position.” Uhura took a sip of tea and then looked up, tilting her head to one side. “What about you and Jim?” she asked.

Spock was so taken aback by the question he was unable to answer immediately. Uhura misunderstood his silence.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, if you’d rather not talk about it.”

“There is nothing to talk about, Nyota,” Spock finally said. “Jim is a colleague and a friend – no more.”

“Really?” She appeared surprised. “You two seem so…close, I guess. And Jim’s Jim. I’ve seen the way he looks at you – he’s not a one to hold back when he wants something. At least, I’ve never known him to.”

Of all the things Uhura said, Spock focused on one point. “In what way does he look at me?”

Uhura smiled. “Put it this way, it’s the first look I saw on his face the night I met him in a bar in Riverside, and the one I’ve seen when he’s interested in getting to know someone more intimately. I just assumed you two had got it together, what with all the touching and stuff you’ve both been doing recently.”

 _Touching?_ Spock thought. He considered recent interactions with Kirk and realized that his captain had been touching him quite often of late, more than he ever used to. Neither had Spock noticed that he was reciprocating occasionally, the actions being entirely unconscious.

“I have never considered Jim as anything more than a friend,” Spock said, finally.

“Because he’s male?”

That was a good question. Although Uhura was unaware of it, Spock had had intimate relations with other men and had been able to respond to them. The encounters occurred during an experimental phase that he went through in his first two years as a student at the Academy. If his relationship with Uhura had taught him nothing else, it was that sex with a stranger was not in the least gratifying.

He considered his failure to see the cues Uhura clearly could, wondering if it was because he had never viewed Kirk in a sexual context, and therefore had interpreted them differently.

“I believe because I failed to comprehend any potential subtext in our interactions.”

“And now…?” she pressed.

He had much to consider. “I will remain friends with Jim. As to more, I do not know.”

+

“You’re quieter than usual tonight, Spock. You okay?” Kirk asked, after he’d moved his queen down two levels.

Spock had been looking for the cues that Uhura had seen, and so far, had failed to see anything that could be interpreted beyond their normal interactions. “I am well,” he responded automatically.

“I had my chat with Bones,” Kirk said, smiling.

“Indeed?” Spock would not ask outright what had been said. He was aware that Kirk volunteering such personal information about another was unethical. However, since the information pertained to Nyota, he was willing to put certain ethics aside this once.

Kirk moved his rook across two places. “Let’s just say the Tradori weren’t far off the mark when they picked up something from Bones. Check.”

Spock looked at the board while debating whether to share what he knew. “I believe they were also accurate in their assessment of Nyota.” He moved his king to take Kirk’s rook.

“So you had a chat with her, too, huh? Well, then it’s our duty as their best friends to help them get over whatever it is that’s stopping them from taking things further.”

Spock already felt he had said more than he should much – becoming a matchmaker was a step too far. “I would be exceedingly uncomfortable meddling in the personal affairs of others.”

“I guess it depends on what you deem as meddling,” Kirk pointed out as he moved his bishop up two levels. “I’m not suggesting we lock them in a room together or anything. But I’ll bet Nyota doesn’t know how Bones feels about her. I bet you could find a way of letting her know. I can do the same. Check.”

Spock moved his queen to take Kirk’s bishop. “I will consider it.”

Kirk moved his queen into position. “Check Mate. That was easy – your game’s off tonight.”

Spock stood up. “I am somewhat fatigued. I believe I will retire. Good night, Jim.”

Kirk stood up and as Spock walked around the desk, Kirk touched him lightly on the arm. “Night Spock.”

For a moment, Spock paused and looked at Kirk, taking in the bright blue eyes and the smile, which widened as he felt his captain’s touch change to a squeeze and then let go. Spock nodded once and then left.

Once inside his quarters he stopped and considered their interactions that evening. He really couldn’t see what Nyota saw and decided the best way was to continue on as if she had never shared her thoughts and observations.

+

A week later, Spock and Kirk shared an early breakfast in an almost deserted mess hall. They were up two hours earlier than normal for a scheduled vidconference with Admiral Pike. Gamma shift were still on duty, most of alpha shift were still in bed, and most beta shift crew had already eaten dinner. In the relative privacy, Kirk leaned forward and said quietly, “Did you know they finally got it together?”

By ‘they’, Spock was reasonably certain Kirk was referring to Nyota and Bones. He had not seen Nyota off-duty for the last five nights and when he considered it, that was unusual.

“I am not aware,” Spock said, peeling a krialfa fruit.

Kirk cut into a large waffle and waved it around on the end of his fork with a grin. “Yeah, four nights ago. If you go down to sickbay, Bones is humming, man I mean, he’s actually walking around fucking smiling. I think it’s scaring his staff.”

Spock fought his amusement at the image, mostly unsuccessfully, which made Kirk laugh. “I believe I would also find such a sight most disconcerting.”

“If I’d known how happy it would make him, I’d have gotten Bones laid years ago.”

The comment reminded Spock that such a desire had, in fact, been on Kirk’s wish-list. Given the shoreleaves the two men had shared over the last four years, as well as their time together at the Academy, he was surprised Kirk hadn’t attempted it before. Then again, perhaps he had sensed that McCoy wasn’t ready for it before now.

“I am gratified they have found contentment with one another,” he said, finally.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Spock was unable to interpret Kirk’s expression that accompanied his words, since he was not adept at such things. Not for the first time, did he wish he could better understand the nuances of Human interactions. He was still no nearer seeing in Jim whatever it was Nyota could see.

-=-=-


	10. Chapter 10

9\. Stardate 2262.11

“Please let me go down alone – just for a few minutes. What could go wrong? There’s nothing on the planet bigger than a roach.”

Kirk was being impossible as they sat on either side of his desk in his quarters. “It is against regulations. They are there for a purpose – your safety, and my job as your First Officer is to ensure that safety. I cannot condone it.”

“You know I could order it if I wanted.”

“I am aware.”

“Spock, I’ve always wanted to be the first one down onto a new planet. To be the first person to leave their footprints.”

Over the four and a half years since the start of their mission, since he had accidentally read Kirk’s list of ten wishes, his captain had managed eight of them. One he had long ago discounted as a joke, but this desire to beam down to an untouched planet was a ninth; it was one that was within his reach, if Spock would agree it. It was as simple as that – his agreeing to it, as he was certain that Kirk would never use his rank to get his way in such a matter.

“For how long?” Spock asked.

Kirk’s whole face changed, as he smiled and looked genuinely excited. Given all their encounters with what was strange and curious about the galaxy, it was surprising that Kirk had not become jaded and inured to it.

“Three minutes, tops. Then you and anyone else can beam down, okay?”

“Very well, Captain. Three minutes.”

Kirk bounded out of his seat, and Spock had to walk quickly to keep up with him.

+

As Spock sat in sickbay, his own minor injuries having been tended to by Dr. M’Benga, he considered the profound irony of the situation that had left Jim fighting for his life.

As long as Kirk had been alone on the planet, walking around, leaving his indelible mark, he had been safe. When four others had beamed down, their collective weight had caused the ground to collapse, a weakness in the structure of the planet’s surface that had been undetectable by the ship’s sensors. Kirk had fallen furthest and had been most severely injured, breaking bones, fracturing his skull and rupturing internal organs. Two of his science team were severely though not critically wounded and he and one other had escaped with only minor cuts and abrasions.

Nyota had visited earlier and had sat silently with him, holding his hand. He had taken strength from her, and had sensed her compassion. Finally she had squeezed his hand. “He’ll do his best,” she said. “He _is_ the best.” She then stood up and left him to the privacy of his thoughts.

The image of Kirk as the ground had suddenly given way beneath him made his stomach roil, so close in similarity to the events of that fateful day when he had lost his mother.

McCoy had been in the operating theater for seven hours. In that same time period, M’Benga had performed operations on two people and had patched up two more. He was officially on medical leave, M’Benga refusing to allow him to go to the bridge. There was no where else to be, therefore, than there in sickbay, waiting.

His mother dying was his first brush with grief, his father’s words had allowed him to freely experience it internally, had allowed him to feel the anger towards the one who had caused her death. It was as though Sarek’s admission of loving his mother had been a key to a door that had opened for him and had since, never entirely closed. It had been liberating.

This time, there was no-one to rail against – Jim’s accident was a quirk of fate. It didn’t stop Spock going over and over in his head the data they had gleaned about the planet, looking for a flaw, something overlooked that may have warned them. But he could find nothing.

For only the second time in his life, he felt entirely helpless. Jim’s life was in McCoy’s hands – if anyone had the ability to save him, the esteemed CMO of the Enterprise did. Spock couldn’t countenance the idea of a world without Jim; without his vibrancy and his energy, his unique leadership inspiring and motivating everyone.

That was part of it, but Spock knew he was not being entirely honest. It wasn’t just the possibility of the ship losing her captain, it was about him losing Jim, with his blue eyes and his ready smile, his friendship and… his love. Spock finally acknowledged what exactly it was he had sensed through Jim’s touches, after months of refusing to analyze it. There it was. And he knew it, recognized it, because it mirrored his own feelings towards this special man.

How far they had come from the moment their eyes had met across the floor at the Kobayashi Maru inquiry. From nemeses to platonic lovers. Why is it, Spock wondered, that it took a tragedy such as this, to force him to his senses, to acknowledge what Nyota had seen all those many months ago? What fear in himself had driven him to avoid seeing what was in front of his eyes? Perhaps he and McCoy were not so different after all. Perhaps it was the fear of vulnerability, of opening up to the potential of hurt.

He considered the words of the poem “The Prophet”.

_When love beckons to you, follow him,_

_Though his ways are hard and steep._

_And when his wings enfold you yield to him,_

_Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you._

_And when he speaks to you believe in him,_

_Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.  
  
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning._

_Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,_

_So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.  
  
_ How apt they were, and how he now understood them. He had never given all that he could have to Nyota, yet even without the intimacy of sexual sharing, he had given so much more to Jim, invested so much more in the friendship they shared. The only thing lacking was the sexual element. It was, perhaps ironic, that what he withheld from Uhura, Kirk already had, and what he was withholding from Kirk, Uhura already had.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a door opening and McCoy, looking exhausted, emerging. Spock sprung up.  
  
“I’ve got nothing to tell you beyond he’s still alive, but only just. By rights with those injuries, he should be dead – he’s hanging on by sheer cussedness.”  
  
“May I see him, Leonard?”  
  
He saw the doctor’s eyes widen at the deliberate use of his given name. They had shared a vigil over Jim once before, though even that hadn’t been as serious as this time.  
  
“You need to know, he looks pretty bad, Spock, and he’s hooked up to just about everything I have. I’ve also got him on a temporary cardiopulmonary bypass, as part of his heart was damaged.”  
  
“I understand. What is the prognosis?”  
  
“Really? I’ve no idea, but it’s not good – less than a twenty percent chance of recovery, I’d say.”  
  
Spock nodded and walked past McCoy, through the sterile field and into the isolation ward. Kirk was barely recognizable, his face swollen and bruised. His head was heavily bandaged and a tubes went into his nose and mouth. Above him, a monitor charted his lifesigns and he was surrounded by equipment all designed to keep him alive long enough for his body to heal. Spock walked up to the bed and took Kirk’s hand in his. It felt cool to the touch – cooler than normal for Humans and through it he sensed nothing, merely a void where Jim’s vibrant emotions would normally jump out at him.  
  
So lost in his thoughts, it took Spock several seconds to realize he had been standing there for two point three hours, loosely holding his captain’s hand, silently willing him to live. It was illogical to remain here. There was nothing he could do and Kirk would not be regaining consciousness in the near future, of that he was certain.  
  
+  
  
Spock vigil was a daily occurrence, the first thing he did when he came off-shift. As acting Captain, he had his duties to perform, but as soon as he was done, he made his way to sickbay and spent two to three hours with Kirk. No one disturbed him, but McCoy, who occasionally came in to check the equipment. Spock knew that was normally a job for a nurse, but the doctor took on the task when he was visiting, out of deference to him and his need for privacy. He wondered whether it was something McCoy had learned over their years working together, or whether Uhura had perhaps provided the doctor with some of her own insights into him. No matter, he felt gratitude at McCoy’s tact.  
  
Each day of Kirk’s continued survival, was a day to celebrate, because it meant the odds of his pulling through were improving.  
  
On the third day of his vigil, he was aware that the following day marked an important date in the diary of those on board who came from the north American continent. Thanksgiving was a festival he had been aware of, but had not participated in until his assignment to the Enterprise. Kirk had begun what became an annual tradition, citing his belief that the crew were family to each other and they could give thanks for the way in which the Federation planets supported each other in times of need, and also thanks for their continued health and well-being. Wishing to continue the tradition, Spock asked Uhura to liaise with the chefs to provide a suitable meal for those who wished to celebrate. He tried not to think that had circumstances been different, he and Jim would have shared a meal together, as family to each other.  
  
On the sixth day, Kirk’s recovery had been sufficient for McCoy to operate on him and to remove the equipment that had oxygenated and circulated his blood. On the ninth day, he ceased the medication that forced the coma, although Kirk still hadn’t surface from it two days later as Spock sat beside him. That didn’t stop him from talking to his captain, his friend. From the time Kirk’s coma was natural, Spock talked. Subjects ranged from memories of missions together, to his scientific work, his childhood, and his aspirations.  
  
The ship was in deep space and what to do next had been a source of contention between him and McCoy. There was no precedent to suggest the ship should turn back if the captain became critically injured or killed, so as acting captain, he had logically continued to follow orders. McCoy, on the other hand, was in favor of returning to Earth and had vociferously put his point across. While Spock privately agreed, he could not share his opinion with the doctor, so it was with a degree of relief when, a week after Kirk’s accident, Spock finally received formal orders from StarFleet to return.  
  
Their estimated arrival time was three months, two weeks and five days. With Kirk’s accident, it was probable StarFleet would end the five year mission upon their arrival, five months earlier than scheduled.  
  
+  
  
On the fifteenth day, Spock received a call from sickbay. Kirk was close to regaining consciousness. Passing the conn to Sulu, he had to stop himself from running to sickbay, still arriving within twenty eight seconds of receiving the summons.  
  
“Fuck, that was fast,” McCoy said when Spock’s sudden appearance in his office made him jump. The doctor indicated a display on his wall. “See that there,” he said, pointing at one indicator. “That’s his brain activity which is consistent with coma victims regaining consciousness. I think he’ll be awake in under and hour.”  
  
“May I see him?”  
  
“You may…but…as soon as he comes round, we’re going to have to do a bunch of things with all that equipment. It’ll get pretty busy.”  
  
“I understand. Thank you.”  
  
Spock had been standing in his customary position loosely holding Kirk’s hand for forty three minutes when he felt a twitch against his fingers. He gently squeezed and felt the twitch again. With his other hand, he brushed his fingers lightly across Kirk’s forehead. “Jim,” he said quietly. The word elicited him an answering squeeze. A moment later, his eyelids began to flutter, as if it was taking great effort to lift the lids.  
  
“Jim,” Spock repeated. “Come back to me, Jim.”  
  
With those words, Kirk finally won the battle and Spock never thought he’d seen a more beautiful sight than Kirk’s bright blue eyes, unfocused for a minute, finally turning to look at him, and though there was no movement of his mouth, Spock knew Kirk was smiling.  
  
Nothing, not any force in the galaxy could have prevented Spock’s answering smile, as wide as any Kirk had ever bestowed upon him.  
  
Inside he felt a great upwelling of emotion, of happiness, that Jim was back, and through their touch, he sensed an answering joy. From the corner of one of Kirk’s eyes, a tear escaped and slid down. Spock leaned over and gently halted its progress with his finger, caressing his cheek as he did so. “Welcome back, Jim.”  
  
Kirk squeezed his hand again, more strongly this time.  
  
“The doctor will need to tend to you now that you’re back. When he comes, I shall go back to the bridge and return later after I have completed my shift.”  
  
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the door opened, admitting McCoy and two nurses. Spock had released Kirk’s hand when he had heard approaching footsteps and with a last lingering gaze, he stepped away.  
  
“If you will excuse me, Captain.” With that, he left.  
  
+  
  
Five point two hours later, of which Spock had internally counted every minute, beta shift finally arrived to relieve the bridge crew and he was free to return to sickbay.  
  
“Doctor?” he said as he reached McCoy’s office. There was a clatter as the doctor dropped the Padd he had been reading.  
  
“Goddamnit, Spock! Someone ought to put a fucking bell on you, the way you keep sneaking up like that.”  
  
He didn’t dignify the comment with an answer. “How is Jim?” What Spock was really asking was, had Jim suffered any lasting brain injury.  
  
“Better than I expected,” came the gruff reply. “No neural damage that I can make out, but I’ve not done the full battery of tests on him yet. I’ve taken him off most of the support equipment and moved him out of the isolation room and into a side ward, but he’s still nil by mouth, so he’s hooked up to a drip.”  
  
“May I see Jim?”  
  
“Yeah, go ahead.”  
  
As Spock moved away, McCoy shouted from his office, “Second door on the left.”  
  
Kirk was still on a biobed, the lifesigns monitor above his head quietly doing its job. But gone was the myriad equipment that was holding his captain and friend together, keeping the fragile body alive long enough to heal. As soon as he entered, their eyes met and held.  
  
“Spock,” Kirk whispered and then coughed in an attempt to clear his throat.  
  
He walked over to the bedside cabinet and picking up a glass of water that stood there, directed the straw to Kirk’s mouth. His captain took several long sips before nodding.  
  
“Fuck, I think my throat’s raw from having various tubes down it,” Kirk said raspily, “but Bones has got me on the good stuff so I can’t feel it.”  
  
“Jim, I am sorry.”  
  
Kirk looked at him, puzzled. “What for?”  
  
“For failing to detect the nature of the planet’s surface which resulted in you being so seriously injured.” For nearly being the cause of your death, he thought, but didn’t say aloud.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault. No-one knew. We did all the standard things, including geological surveys, and nothing showed up. And,” Jim smiled, “I got to have the whole planet to myself for three minutes.”  
  
Spock allowed a small smile, purely to indulge Jim.  
  
“Did I really see you smile – like _really_ smile, before?”  
  
“I temporarily lost control.” Spock admitted.  
  
“Well, it was an awesome sight to wake up to after…what did Bones say…two weeks?”  
  
“Two weeks, one day and nine point three hours.”  
  
“Pull up a chair, Spock. You look uncomfortable standing there like that.”  
  
There had been so much equipment in the small isolation room there had been no room for a chair. With his vigil for so long having been on his feet, it hadn’t occurred to him to sit.  
  
“Closer,” Kirk said when Spock pulled up a chair. “I mean, right next to me, here,” he said, patting the bed.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Spock was aware as he said the words, it was not a question a Vulcan would ever ask. He set the chair down directly beside the bed as Kirk requested.  
  
“Kind of floaty – I think that’s the drugs. I bet when he takes me off them, I’m gonna hurt like a bitch.”  
  
“Has the doctor given any indication how long you’ll be here?”  
  
Kirk grinned. “That was the first question I asked him, right after you left earlier. He said three weeks, maybe less. But definitely out before Christmas.”  
  
“The crew will be pleased. I believe it will be extra cause for celebration.”  
  
Kirk smiled. “Where’s your hand? It was kinda comforting waking up to you holding it before.”  
  
Spock held out his palm but instead of a simple clasp, Kirk intertwined their fingers, sending an involuntary shiver down Spock’s back at the intimate contact.  
  
“What about you, Spock,” Kirk half whispered. “Will you be celebrating, too?”  
  
Spock held Kirk’s gaze. “I believe I began my own celebrations somewhat early,” he admitted and then ducked his head, looking at the floor. “It took nearly losing you for me to realize what you are to me.” He forced himself to look up to watch Kirk’s face, to see how he had taken his bold admission.  
  
Kirk laughed. “About fucking time, if you don’t mind me saying.”  
  
Spock looked at him, puzzled.  
  
“I know I’ve been a bit of a playboy over the last few years, but it’s been quite a while since I’ve had sex with anyone,” Kirk explained. “Since pretty much around the time you told me you and Nyota had split. I’ve been waiting for some kind of sign from you that you felt about me the way I feel about you.”  
  
He had to ask, had to be certain. “And how is it that you feel?”  
  
“You know, I’m not good at talking about emotions and shit. I’ve never told anyone I love them…not even my own mom. But if this accident’s taught me one thing, it’s life’s too short and I need to get over my own crap. So—”  
  
Kirk lifted their hands to his mouth and pressed his lips against Spock’s knuckles. Spock felt his eyes close almost involuntarily, and could feel Kirk’s hand shaking in his.  
  
“So,” Kirk continued and Spock opened his eyes, wanting to see everything. “You’re the first person in the whole universe I’ve said this to. I love you. No, more than that, Spock, I’m _in_ love with you.”  
  
Spock realized he’d failed to exhale his last breath and let it go.  
  
“Now I know you’ve got an eidetic memory, which is good because,” Kirk paused and laughed, “I don’t know when I’m going to be able to get the courage to say that again.”  
  
“Then I will return the honor.” Spock swallowed nervously. “I, too, have never uttered the words aloud. I love you, Jim. I believe I am in love with you, too.”  
  
The look on Kirk’s face and the feel of his emotions pulsing through their connected hands was something Spock knew he would always remember – it was a look and a sense of utter exhilaration.  
  
Kirk let go of Spock’s hand to run his fingers over his face, tracing his upswept eyebrows. “You’re so beautiful.”  
  
Spock quirked an eyebrow, feeling it move beneath one of Kirk’s fingertips, earning him a grin.  
  
“Did I say that out loud?” Kirk asked.  
  
“You did,” Spock confirmed.  
  
“It’s the drugs. I’m never normally this sappy.”  
  
Spock could no longer resist temptation. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Kirk’s for a moment. They felt cool and dry.  
  
“Wait, did you just kiss me?”  
  
Spock shook his head. “It appears I lost control again.”  
  
“Well,” Kirk said smiling, “if you ask me—”  
  
Spock abruptly pulled his hand away.  
  
“What—?” Kirk asked in confusion. A moment later, he had his answer when the door to his room slid open and Nurse Chapel walked in.  
  
“Your drainage bag’s almost full,” she explained, pointing to a place on the opposite side of the bed to where Spock sat.  
  
“Oh is that all? I thought it might be something embarrassing,” Kirk said, rolling his eyes. Despite his jocularity, Spock could see the heightened color of a blush in Kirk’s face.  
  
A few minutes later, Chapel left.  
  
“God, I fucking hate hospitals. I hate being so helpless that everything has to be done for me. I hate my crew seeing me like this – even though they’re used to it because they’re medical professionals.”  
  
Spock gently took Kirk’s hand back in his.  
  
“I’m ranting, aren’t I?” Kirk said with a smile.  
  
“I do not wish your blood pressure to rise unduly and cause Nurse Chapel to have to return,” Spock pointed out.  
  
“Point. Okay, I’ll just think and say nice stuff.” Kirk yawned.  
  
The earlier flush, Spock noticed, had gone, leaving Kirk looking pale and drawn. “You are tired, Jim. You should rest.” He stood up and leaning down, pressed his lips lightly to Kirk’s.  
  



	11. Chapter 11

It was eighteen days before McCoy discharged Kirk to his cabin, where he was to continue on medical leave. Spock suspected the doctor would have kept Kirk longer if he hadn’t been concerned that the captain’s negative reaction to his continued incarceration was likely to cause a mutiny among his medical team and ruin their Christmas.

For a week prior to his release, Kirk had been getting physical therapy to strengthen his legs. McCoy had explained to Spock that Kirk had sustained a compound fracture to his left femur with part of the bone piercing the skin, ripping through his quad muscles in the process. While everything had knitted together through regenerative therapy, there would be a residual weakness for some time until it was fully healed.

McCoy held Kirk back until Spock had finished duty and could come to collect him. Throughout his shift that day, he received a number of encrypted messages from the captain that were most certainly not duty-related.

Spock went directly to sickbay and while wearing a bell was out of the question, he made a point of making a noise as he approached McCoy’s office so as not to startle the doctor again and earn him another of his diatribes.

“I’ve come for the captain,” Spock said, standing at ease in the doorway.

McCoy looked up. “Ah, there you are. Jim’s been driving us all insane. You’re more than welcome to him.”

Kirk was sitting in his room, already dressed and almost bouncing with pent up energy.

“You do realize,” Spock said as he helped Kirk down off the bed, “that certain of those messages could be construed as sexual harassment.”

“So, bite me. They finally let me out of bed today, but wouldn’t let me go back to my quarters, so I was bored. Still I got to have a shower. Do you have any idea how excited I got about being able to have one instead of a bedbath? That’s what I’ve come down to, Spock. Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise can now take a piss without having to ask nursey for a fucking bottle.”

Spock’s lips twitched.

“Are you laughing at me?” Kirk scowled, but unable to keep it up, his face transformed into a wide smile. “I’m telling you, it’s incentive enough never to go into dangerous situations ever again.”

“Since the first day of this mission, I have constantly reminded you to act in a more responsible and safe manner. It has taken you four point six years to finally agree with me.”

Kirk grinned as they slowly made their way back to his quarters. As the door opened to his cabin, Kirk stopped dead.

“What…? Who did this?”

His room was decorated for Christmas, complete with a fully decorated tree, and fairly lights were twisted around items of furniture and the divider between living and bedroom.

“It is Christmas Day tomorrow, Jim. The crew thought you would like some holiday cheer.”

Kirk shook his head and walked further into his cabin. “It’s great – I didn’t expect this. Whose idea was it?”

Spock was pleased that Kirk looked so happy. “Nyota and Janice Rand were responsible for the ideas – several others assisted in its execution. It was the reason you were held back in sickbay today – so it could be completed.”

Kirk smiled, giving him an assessing look, no doubt guessing that he, too, had played a part in creating the seasonal ‘welcome home’. The captain clearly decided not to push the point. “Computer,” he ordered, “lights to twenty percent.”

As the lighting dimmed, so the Christmas tree lights and those decorating the cabin shone brighter, giving the room a soft, ethereal appearance.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, turning to Spock. “Thank you.”

He detected a slight catch to Kirk’s voice. Holding out his arms in invitation, they embraced for the first time. Kirk felt very different to Uhura – the same height, and a harder, more compact body. Having recently showered, Spock could detect the aroma of coconut of Kirk’s favorite shampoo.

Since their first press of lips after Kirk had regained consciousness, imagining deepening the kiss, running his hands over his body, mapping every contour and angle, making love with Jim, was something that had occupied his free-time thoughts to a shocking degree. Frustratingly for both of them, they had been unable to do more, as every one of Kirk’s vitals was constantly being closely monitored as part of his recovery, and an elevation in heart-rate that sharing any degree of intimacy would bring on, would have brought one of the nurses bustling in to check up on him. Reluctantly, they had agreed to wait until his discharge.

Meanwhile, Spock had demonstrated the _rheho_ – Vulcan hand touching. Jim, had been a quick study, leading him to be grateful his own lifesigns were not under close scrutiny, for while Kirk found the ritual motions soothing, he had found them highly arousing.

Kirk pulled his head away from where it was resting on Spock’s shoulder. “You do realize,” Kirk said looking up at him with a grin “if I was up to my usual standard of fitness, I’d seriously rip your clothes off right about now.”

Spock looked into smiling blue eyes and felt a sudden jolt at how close he had come to losing this precious Human from his life. “There is a regulation concerning the correct maintenance of StarFleet uniforms,” Spock reminded.

“Fuck the regulations.”

Spock pressed his lips to Kirk’s right ear. “I would rather fuck you.”

Kirk laughed. “Did you really just say that? Oh god, Spock,” he said looking down ruefully, “this has to be the fastest hard-on I’ve gotten in a long time.”

Spock looked down and noted the hard bulge clearly visible beneath the uniform trousers. He felt Kirk’s finger under his chin tilt his head up and in the next moment, their first real kiss that followed was the most natural thing in the world.

Their lips caressed gently and cherishingly, the tender kiss deepening when Kirk’s tongue pressed for admittance, his mouth tasting faintly of coffee. Spock felt his hand being taken into Kirk’s while the other possessively cradled the back of his head, holding him in place.

Their tongues explored and twined around each other, the kiss, sweet and soft and sensual. At the same time, Kirk’s hand was moving on his, dexterous fingers expertly weaving patterns of bliss, the dual inputs inciting him, filling him with wanton desire.

He was very aware that the emotional flow from Kirk through their points of contact was comfortable, which meant he wasn’t having to shield intensively. It allowed him to really enjoy the physical expression of their love as the kisses became harder and more urgent.

Minutes or hours later – with the provocative assault, Spock had lost his time-sense – Kirk pulled away, panting. “Oh god, Spock. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that to you.”

“Perhaps it is as much as I have wished it,” Spock quietly replied.

Kirk’s hand released his to move beneath his shirts, his fingers like dry sensuous tongues licking at his belly and chest, igniting nerve-endings and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“I wish to see more of you,” Spock whispered into the rounded ear, and bit on the lobe, eliciting a gasp. Kirk held his hands up as Spock pulled his shirts over his head, exposing his broad, muscled chest. Of their own volition, his hands gave in to the itch to touch, trailing over the firm abdomen, the muscles automatically twitching. He slid his hands up his sides, pausing so the pads of his thumbs could brush over Kirk’s dusky pink nipples. They begged for more, so Spock experimentally gave them a twist. Kirk didn’t seem to mind, closing his eyes and groaning as he worked them.

“God Spock,” he whispered, “you’re killing me and we’ve barely got started.”

Kirk pressed in to kiss him hard, their tongues stabbing and parrying as though in a battle for dominance. At the same time, Kirk’s hands moved to palm Spock’s shaft, cupping it and pressing rhythmically against it. The touch was unexpected and caused him to shudder with arousal, gasping into Kirk’s mouth.

“You’re well-endowed,” Kirk said when he broke the kiss.

“I have not made a study of penile measurements to know whether your statement is accurate.”

Kirk chuckled and moved to the fastening of his trousers. Spock reciprocated, pulling the zipper down slowly, wanting to make this first time last. Sliding his hand inside, he found a warmth that was covered in cotton, and molding his hand, he wrapped his fingers around the hard cloth-enclosed column. As he moved his hand, exploring the length, he leaned forward and ran his tongue along Kirk’s neck from shoulder to ear, enjoying the taste that was uniquely his.

As he nibbled and sucked at the exposed neck, Spock felt Kirk’s hand slip beneath his briefs, wrapping a cool hand around his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so hot,” Kirk whispered as he ran his tongue along the rim of Spock’s ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this, to feel you.” He slipped his hand further down, to palm Spock’s balls, rolling them gently, expertly, causing a tremor of desire to arrow through him.

Spock wanted better access to Kirk and pushed his trousers down before tugging gently at the briefs. When Kirk’s cock sprang free, his sensitive nose picked up the heady scent of musk and needed to get closer, to know more of it. Pulling away, he knelt down and took the long cock into his mouth, wrapping his lips tightly around the crown, sucking and licking at the slit, as his hand held the shaft.

“God, that’s so hot…fuck…oh….god,” came a litany as he felt Kirk’s hands clutch at his head.

This wasn’t something he wanted to do while standing, especially as he knew that Kirk was still weak, so pulling away, the movement eliciting a groan of disappointment, he undid Kirk’s boots and pulled them off, before removing the pants, briefs and socks until Kirk stood in the middle of his cabin in all his naked glory.

Spock gracefully stood and pulled his own shirts off, placing it on the back of a chair. Before he could do more, Kirk lunged forward and attached himself to one of Spock’s nipples, sucking and teasing it with his teeth until it was wet and stiff and aching, his nimble fingers playing with its twin, setting his blood on fire.

“I would prefer to continue this on the bed,” Spock managed to gasp out.

Kirk pulled back and walked slowly towards the bed. In the few steps it took to reach it, Spock had expertly divested himself of all remaining clothing while simultaneously admiring the well-muscled ass in front of him.

Kirk carefully lay down and Spock climbed onto the bed, reversing his position so that his cock hung above Kirk’s face, lowering himself until it was within easy reach. Assured Kirk would be able to get to work, he turned his attention to Kirk’s cock lying hard on his abdomen, still wet with his saliva, the head glistening with pre-come. Lifting the hard flesh he sank his mouth over it, just as Kirk did the same, both of them gasping at the intense sensations.

Spock knew he was close to coming and would have to exercise control if he was to stave it off. Before it became critical, Kirk released him and then sucked his balls into his mouth, gently sucking and tonguing them.

“I love the taste of you,” Kirk announced between licks and sucks. He felt Kirk’s tongue move further back to the perineum, pressing against it. The raw desire he felt made it difficult for him to focus on the cock in his mouth, as he bobbed up and down the length of it, each downward movement dropping his nose to Kirk’s groin which held his natural and intoxicating aroma.

“And I, you,” Spock stopped to reply. “I had not known until now that I was missing something in my life,” he admitted and enthusiastically bent back to his task.

“Spock, if you don’t stop I’m going to come and I’m not ready to, yet.”

He reluctantly ceased his pleasurable ministrations and, lifting himself and turning, lay down beside Kirk. Leaning over him and kissing him deeply, he could taste himself in Kirk’s mouth. Applying lips and tongues, the only sound in the cabin was that of their wet, ardent kissing.

They came up for air. “I don’t know what I want more,” Kirk said, breathing heavily, “to fuck you or have you fuck me.”

Spock leaned down and nibbled on Kirk’s ear, his breaths gusting against the shell. “I wish to feel you within me, filling me, thrusting hard until I lose control and cry out at the ecstasy of it. I wish to see your passion, your face when you climax as you fill me with your seed.”

“Fuck, Spock, where did you learn to talk like that?” Kirk groaned, as one hand groped towards his nightstand.

“I do not wish you to over exert yourself, so I ask that you remain on your back and I will ‘ride’ you.”

“Fuck, yes,” Kirk agreed, licking his lips in anticipation.

“I will not require much preparation, as I am able to control the internal muscles sufficiently to prevent damage.”

Spock knelt up and spent a moment looking at Kirk’s lithe body laid out before him, from the wide muscular shoulders to the narrow waist, bathed in the gentle glow of the Christmas lights and his for the taking. Kirk’s hands reached out for him, fingers running lightly through his chest hair and sliding down his sides to grip his hips.

Spock moved to straddle the broad chest, close enough that Kirk would be able to reach behind to prepare him, as his cock hung full and heavy over him. A moment later, he felt Kirk’s fingers, slick with lube, slide back to his entrance, teasing it, creating tantalizing sensations as his fingers gently rimmed the tight ring of muscle.

“I can’t believe I’m touching you here, it’s so personal, you know? I’ve been staring at your ass for months, wondering how it would feel to do this.” With that, Spock felt the first slick finger slide into him and he was almost undone.

“God, Spock, you’re so hot and tight. I’m not gonna last more than a minute.”

“Enough, I want you inside me, now.” With that, he moved back and watched as Kirk squirted more lube onto the palm of his right hand, then lifting his cock, spread it along the length of the generous shaft in a slow, sensual pumping action. Their eyes met and held, Kirk’s expression heated and intense.

When Kirk bit his lip, Spock looked down at his hand as he pleasured himself, sinuous muscles rippling along the compact Human body as he moved into his hand, and wondered how often he did this alone in his bed.

“I’ve done this every night for months, thinking of you,” Kirk said huskily, as if reading Spock’s thoughts. “Imagining doing unspeakable things with you,” he added with a grin.

Spock’s curiosity was piqued. “Unspeakable?”

“God, yeah,” he said, his voice catching as he stopped movement of his hands, holding his cock upright.

Despite his curiosity, Spock didn’t ask for more details, instead focusing on relaxing his muscles as he positioned himself above Kirk’s swollen flesh. It had been many years since he had allowed a male to take him, the stretch as his head pierced into him sending shivers skittering down his spine, his heart thrumming wildly in his side.

Spock used gravity to slowly slide down the length, taking Kirk into him, inch by tantalizing inch, eliciting a litany of lascivious profanity from Kirk in the process, until he had reached the hilt and his testicles were nestled on the taut abdomen. The look on Kirk’s face was ecstatic, his eyes slitted, his mouth open in a silent ‘oh’. Spock leaned forward to kiss the open mouth, a welcome interlude as their tongues collided lustfully, allowing his body to adjust to the bulk of the sturdy manhood filling him.

Spock reluctantly pulled away and lifted his hips, slowly gliding up Kirk’s length in the process and then dropping back down, the feel of it like an electric shock to raw nerves, heating his blood in a way he imagined the early symptoms of _Pon Farr_ to be.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Kirk said, his eyes riveted to where their bodies were joined. “You’re so tight. How does it feel for you?”

Spock considered describing the specific sensations, but rejected the thought as likely sounding too clinical; it wasn’t what Kirk wanted to know. “The feel of you inside me is both primitive and arousing – my body is aflame.”

Kirk wrapped his fist around Spock’s outstretched cock, his fingers still slick with lube, running his fingers around the crown and the double ridge beneath, watching in awe as they flared to his touch. Spock gasped at the rousing sensations.

“You like that, huh?” Kirk asked as he ran his thumb in tight circles across the slit, then moving down to gently rub at the sensitive frenulum. “Like me playing with your cock while you’re fucking me?”

“Yes,” Spock whispered, the last consonant a long, sibilant hiss.

With his free hand, Kirk tugged on Spock’s wrist until he could suck his index and middle fingers into his mouth. The sensation sent a lightening jolt through him, his eyes fluttering closed as he almost reached sensory overload.

Blindly, he reached out and pinched one of Kirk’s nipples as they found a rhythm together, the sound of flesh on flesh, and their short, harsh gasps of pleasure, echoing around the silent cabin.

The utterly rapt expression on Kirk’s face was one he’d never before seen. “I’m close,” he mumbled around Spock’s fingers, as his hips thrust upwards, embedding his cock deeply into Spock. His lust-filled eyes were wide and dark, droplets of sweat trickling from his temples and covering his pale, athletic torso in a glistening sheen, reflected in the low light.

Spock redoubled his efforts, his corded thighs working hard to lift and slam himself back down, impaling himself as deeply as he could as Kirk’s hand rapidly worked him, spreading a fire through his groin, pressure building in his testicles. There was no stopping it now as his movements became erratic, his muscles tightening around Kirk’s shaft, the entire universe shrinking to the dual sensations of Kirk fist working him and his mouth sensuously sucking on his highly sensitized fingers.

It was like the sparkle of stars after sunset, starting with one or two here and there, but then more and more appear, until soon there’s a whole galaxy of them, the myriad points of sparkling light coalescing into a solid mass of raw pleasure.

Giving himself entirely up to it, he shouted “Jim,” as pulsating waves of ecstasy suddenly overtook him, sending slender ropes of semen across Kirk’s chest and face as blue eyes watched him intently.

Unable to move, Spock’s overworked lungs drew in great gasps of air as he held himself in a hovering position. Kirk slammed his hips upwards several times to close the gap, and then held himself there. “Fuck….fuck…” Kirk gasped, his face contorted in wild abandon, and a moment later, Spock felt jets of wet warmth fill him as, with a loud, sighing moan, Kirk gave himself over to a frenzied release.

Feeling utterly enervated, Spock pulled off Kirk and collapsed beside him, Kirk reaching for his hand as he let his oxygen-deprived body work on rebuilding its depleted reserves.

After several minutes, Kirk pushed himself up shakily and, pulling a small towel from a cabinet beside his bed, cleaned himself of the cooling fluid on his face and chest. That done, he leaned over Spock and kissed him slowly and deeply, tongues lazily touching and sliding together. The kiss was like the period at the end of a long sentence, a natural rounding off of something meaningful. After several minutes, apparently satisfied, he lay back down, as both twisted onto their sides to face each other.

“Shall I let you into a secret,” Kirk asked with a grin.

Spock could do no more than nod, as Kirk’s fingers traced the contours of his face, mapping it as if to commit it to memory.

“That day we first met, when I said I had the right to face my accuser. You came down and my god, so help me, I wanted you right there and then. It was all lust, but it hit me so strongly I could barely look at you.”

“I thought you one of the most attractive men I had ever seen,” Spock admitted. “At the time, I was in a relationship with Uhura and thought nothing more of it. It has only been in the last few months that I accepted there was something between us, but refused to face it, to analyze it, until your accident.”

Kirk smiled at the confession. “There’s more,” he said looking slightly sheepish. “A couple of weeks out from Earth at the beginning of the mission, you pissed me off about something – I can’t even remember what it was now – and I wanted to get back at you. I’d been toying with a list of things I wanted to do before my thirtieth birthday and had gotten up to nine. So I stuck ‘making love to Spock’ as the tenth, put it in first position and then left it where you’d see it. I knew you wouldn’t be too happy about it, especially as you were with Uhura at the time.”

“I did see it,” Spock confirmed. “It reinforced a belief I had that you were both arrogant and immature.”

“I guess I deserved that,” Kirk conceded with a slight wince. “At the time, I expected you to say something to me, maybe get all indignant, or something, but you never did. In the end, I didn’t get around to adding a proper tenth item, and over the years as I ticked each one off my list, I never dreamed that the one at the top would ever become reality. So tell me, Spock,” he arched an eyebrow and smiled, “do you still feel the same way about me?

Spock’s lips twitched. “Over time, I have come to reassess my initial impressions. As you approach your thirtieth birthday—”

“—in eleven days,” Kirk pointed out.

“Indeed. I have seen you mature into a fine and inspiring commander and…” he reached out to push back a lock of sweat-damp from Kirk’s forehead, “…a very special friend,” he added more quietly.

Kirk smiled at him, his blue eyes twinkling in the subdued light. “And you, Spock, are the best Christmas present I’ve ever had,” he proclaimed, and then closed the gap between them to kiss his Vulcan thoroughly.

[finis]

**Author's Note:**

> Poem quote is from _The Prophet_ by Khalil Gibran


End file.
